Best Foot Forwards
by ASimpleMind94
Summary: The key to being successful is simple; you have to be better than everyone else. It isn't enough to be simply charming, you have to be charismatic and you can't just be intelligent, you need to be nothing less than downright brilliant. Ambition will never
1. Chapter 1

_**Hey, I am Ornella and this is my FIRST story. A multi POV fic which will be AU, but a lot of canon elements will appear, it will star OC's and actual Glee characters. **_

_**In fact, Glee characters will probably dominate the story once they're introduced. But enough rambling, allow me to introduce you to Dominique Goodacre: My OC.**_

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_My father once told me that the key to being successful is simple; you have to be better than everyone else. It isn't enough to be simply charming, you have to be charismatic and whereas some people value intelligence; you can't just be intelligent, you need to be nothing less than downright brilliant. Ambition will never suffice, you need that drive and if someone dares cross you; it's not enough to simply humiliate that person, you must destroy them. This kind of twisted philosophy is probably what contributed to 'Daddy Dearest's successful career in the military, and I'll say kudos to Sargent Goodacre on that account._

_But on the other hand, his overly chauvinistic attitude coupled complete devotion to the USA military was more than likely a factor in my parents' divorce. Or maybe it was his 'new' wife, Lady Skank of Slutterton, the perfect trophy wife unlike my mom who has never been afraid to call a spade a spade. So the moral of this little story is that I, Miss Dominique Goodacre, am the estranged daughter of an authoritarian dictator who masquerades as my father and the free spirited heroine who I call mother. _

_Before you ask, I don't know how the soldier and hippy fell in love; I don't want to know and I probably couldn't get them to tell me if I tried. They truly are chalk and cheese, the fact they ever had sex is so surprising that I've never questioned how mom would call me her 'Little Miracle'. So you may not have guessed by now, but I somehow don't live up to my father's expectations in terms of being his 'Princess'. _

_Whereas he admires discipline; I've always lived by the mantra that rules are meant to be broken, and if not, then bent at the very least. Father expects a sense of respect to be given to authority figures, but I find their incessant need to constantly reinforce said authority oppressing and I'm not afraid to tell them if they overstep a line. Dad wants me to be a classy, young woman; I'm a clumsy gal who likes to have a good time. I should be eloquent; I have a terminal case of foot in mouth disease, it's like I don't have a brain to mouth filter. It is kind of depressing right? Being the complete antithesis of everything your father wants in a daughter. Luckily, my mother loves me; warts and all. So yeah, basically life doesn't suck and in the next few days my life could progress from not sucking to be absolutely fucking awesome._

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Fuckity fuckwit, I feel like I am projecting the stench of burnt plastic and desperation; and that isn't good. Actually it's pretty shit, a lot like walking around with a flashing neon sign that declares you to be a complete and utter loser. Not the best first impression for me to make, not at all; but my mom always says 'always look on the bright side of life' and I think she's right. It could be worse, the neon sign could be flashing something along the lines of 'Avoid me at all costs; I will give you syphilis'. Now, where the fuck am I meant to be? If it wouldn't attract unwanted attention I would be ripping my hair from my scalp and screaming a constant stream of expletives which would make a seasoned prostitute blush, but thinking about 'first impressions' that is one I most definitely do not want to make.

Instead I settle for gritting my teeth and once again entering the fray of students. You know those pictures they show on college websites of freshman orientation? The ones where it looks like everyone is sitting down around an open fire, holding hands and belting out 'Kumbiya my Lord'? Lies. It's all lies; I've been here less than 20 minutes and so far they've run off with my mom for 'parent orientation' and thrown me into this bloodbath completely unprepared. It's like the beginning scene of an awful horror film when everyone is pushing everyone else, screaming at one another from across the courtyard and hugging people as if they've know them their whole lives rather than 10 minutes most of us have been here. If orientation is like this for the rest of the week, I don't know what will happen exactly but I doubt it will be pretty.

I run through my mental checklist of what I've got to do for orientation: Complete my application and pay my tuition deposit, done thanks to a generous cheque from the father; Apply for financial aid, done and I'll be receiving monthly cheques from the rentals; Set up my college e-mail account, check although it took forever and almost resulted in me throwing laptop through my bedroom window in frustration; Order textbooks, mom sorted that out and I think that's all I've really done. Right now I'm meant to be getting my dorm keys from reception, familiarising myself with campus, sitting in on a sample lecture and going on a guided tour of the campus. Simultaneously. Honestly, I can't see reception; I don't know where my dorm is; I haven't officially signed up for any classes yet and I'm about to head-butt the next person who thinks it's acceptable to shoulder barge me.

Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret usurping myself from the Chicago and coming all the way here to New York? I mean NYU is a great school, and the Tisch School of the Arts is a pretty good stepping stone if I want to become an actress. But I think I'm already about to start drowning and as I said; I haven't even got into my dorm room yet. Shit, that sounds stupid; I want to be an actress and I'm on the brink of a full on nervous breakdown over orientation, classes haven't started and I'm already ready to throw the hat in. Fuck, I am stronger than this; I can and will do this. I'll make orientation my bitch, get my dorm keys; find my dorm and get on this walking tour. I may skip the sample lecture but the thing is you can't do everything. Come on Dom, it's time to gird your loins and do this.

"Watch out NYU, Hurricane Dominique is coming through and she's not afraid to leave a trail of devastation in her wake if necessary." Why are people staring? Oh balls, I said that out loud didn't I? Well shit happens; I just strut through the crowd making sure I make eye contact with anyone who looks at me. Well I try to; it's more of a 'push and shove' while teetering dangerously under the weight of my luggage. I mean where are these people's manners? They could at least help with my luggage or well move out my bloody way. I suppose it's true what they say about people in New York, they're about as courteous and helpful as a bikini in the Artic.

* * *

Finally I've made progress, not much but at least I've achieved something. I did manage to find Reception after about 15 minutes of wandering around like a complete muppet, I had to sign some forms and listen to some secretary woman talk me through my schedule for the day as if I hadn't received it about 3 weeks ago and could recite it by heart; but then I got my dorm key and a map and was given the good news that I could sign up for courses online as long as it was by the end of the week, so I suppose you could say it was worth listening to the drivel in the end. The bottom line is that I am now a resident of Weinstein Hall, room 37 and by the luck of the Gods I've managed to find the place without bursting into tears or having the desire to throw myself under a car.

Surprisingly, I like the room and its relaxed atmosphere; it's pretty basic in terms of just having the two standard issue double beds and the expected wardrobe/chest of drawers hybrid that student residences seem to favour, but the best thing is that I've got a large, bay window overlooking Washington Square Park and enough room to walk around without crashing into something. Okay, so I might not love the place but with a few touches on my behalf I could definitely make this place homely enough; first thing is changing that horrific blue duvet cover which has definitely seen better days, about 40 years ago.

However much I'd like to dilly dally around decorating this place, making it my new home; I don't really have the time to do anything so I settle with throwing my bags on my bed and looking over the map the secretary had given me. Despite the nasally quality of her voice which made me wish to be deaf, she has been helpful by highlighting the best routes throughout the campus which I'd never be able to figure out myself since I have absolutely no sense of direction. I have 25 minutes until I've got to meet with the student guide for the walking tour at 721 Broadway so we can traipse around Greenwich village; so if it takes 10 minutes to get there. That means I only have 15 minutes to get ready; yes, I am changing my outfit. I could've damaged everyone's perception of me already as the 'crazed blonde chick who talks to herself' plus I was wearing sweats and hoodie which is definitely not the best representation of me, by a long shot.

As always, chaos ensues. Fashion and I are not a good combination at the best of times. Let me explain, vanity is described as 'an instance or source of excessive pride' which isn't a bad thing in my eyes. I am proud of where I am, I know I look good and I take pride in how I look; so I am vain in the most basic sense of the word but I am by no means narcissistic. I simply have a strong sense of self appreciation and like to demonstrate that through what I wear; everyone knows you judge people as soon as you see them, so the clothes you wear are vital in making sure you express yourself. It's a tricky thing to master, but now add the stress of having to make a first impression on the peers you will study alongside for 4 years; people who could potentially be your friends in a city where you have absolutely no one, well my cousin studies here but I haven't seen her in years because she's pretty much an obnoxious bint who I can't tolerate at the best of times. Now you can see my problem.

What do I want to say? Am I a sultry siren who will break hearts, feisty yet loveable? Or maybe dainty and sweet, encouraging people to take me under their wing? I literally go through my whole wardrobe and nothing seems right; I look sexy but it's not believable, I can look sweet until I crack a crude joke and snort like a pig. Emo? No, I tried it once and I vowed never to return to that dark place because it would culminate in my obituary reading 'Death by awful fashion'. Preppy? I'm pretty smart but bowties and pleated skirts would make me look like some perverts wet dream and I don't want that. Deep calming breaths, I can do this. Hippy? Definitely not, mom is hippy enough for the both of us. Punk? Leather jacket maybe, femhawk; I'd rather die. I look at the clock and scream like some teenage drama queen; I have 10 minutes to be there.

So I should be leaving now and while I know some people would probably enjoy seeing me strolling through New York in nothing but my underwear; that is one thing I could live without never having to experience, in fact if I did it I'd probably drop dead of embarrassment. I pull on some high waist denim shorts which cling to every single curve like a second skin, all I can say is thank God and all the other deity's that they make my legs look good and my ass look peachy; since the shorts are pretty 'provocative' I need to play it safe on top. I can go for sexy, but I point blank refuse to cross that line and enter skank territory. In the end I settle for a long sleeved cotton tee with red and white horizontal stripes, it's got a scoop neck but it doesn't show too much cleavage and gives off a nautical vibe.

I snatch up a long chain with a golden anchor charm and throw it on and put in some plain gold studs, I would usually take more time to accessorise since they can take an outfit from 'pretty but plain' to 'simply fucking amazing' but I need to put on some make up. I cannot roll up to this tour looking like I've been dragged through a bush backwards and then had ten shades of shit beat out of me with the ugly stick. Thankfully, I've got clear skin and thanks to my Slavic heritage it's a nice creamy colour and I managed to avoid the curse of having skin that is pale and makes you look like death warmed up.

I tie my long blonde hair into a pony tail that falls to the middle of my back in soft waves and yes I will admit it, I have hair extensions and this isn't my natural hair colour; well the ice blonde streaks aren't natural, the golden blonde is fortunately. To accentuate my sharp cheekbones I apply a light dusting of raspberry coloured blush; then I focus on my eyes, despite being fair haired and having fair skin my eyes are a warm chocolate brown. In fact they're my favourite feature, larger than normal without looking like a bug eyed alien and framed with thick dark lashes which means I don't have to worry with mascara most of the time; which is a blessing since I would probably end up poking my eye out. I add some eye-liner, sparingly though; no one wants to look like a racoon unless it's Halloween and maybe not even then, some pale lavender eye shadow and I am done. A quick coating of clear lip gloss and I'm done.

"Knock 'em dead Dom" Okay, I like to give myself freakish pep talks and I may be known for talking to myself on occasion; but I'm not crazy, it's just a good way of motivating yourself. I grab my leather jacket and I'm about to leave; shit I forgot my shoes. I run back in: Sandals or sneakers? I chance a glimpse at the clock and wince, 3 minutes to get there. Well I've got my answer: Sneakers, I need to run and I'll be damned if I'm gonna rough up my Jesus sandals over something as silly as a campus tour. Shoes on and now I'm ready to go. Shoes, check. Jacket, check. Bad, check. And then I'm out the door like I've got a rocket rammed up my ass, and I bet that I'm still late.

* * *

Almost there, if I don't die from cardiac arrest before I arrive. I'm fit, I was head cheerleader in high school as well as being captain of the girls hockey team but sprinting through New York is the equivalent of trying to get through a military obstacle course in the pouring rain and I would know since my dad thought forcing his 15 year old daughter to crawl through mud was 'character building'. I swear it was like people were deliberately getting in my way just to piss me off, and if I were able to breathe properly I would've gone ape shit at them but alas I'm panting like a dog trapped in a car in the middle of Death Valley. I can only guess how attractive I look right about now, mind me while I choke on my own sarcasm.

I come to stop at the front of 712 Broadway and almost collapse, I've got my hand on my knees and I'm trying to not be sick while at the same time remembering to breathe so I don't actually collapse. I know women can multi-task but this is taking the piss; but I suppose it can only get better, right? No, wrong. Everyone else gathered outside turns to look at me in perfect synchronization, which is scary enough. But it gets worse when I realise that every single one of them is wearing the same expression: Haughty, judgemental and looking at me as if I'm something the cat dragged in. Yay, it seems that I get to spend 4 years with pod people who seem to emulate the archetype of the 'actor'; arrogant bastards who are quick to tear you down while expecting you to pamper their obscenely large egos when in fact they aren't that talented. Well I might as well try the lottery tonight since I seem to be having the luckiest day ever.

I know I might look like a sun ripened tomato, but I thought they'd have a little bit of respect; I did almost kill myself trying to get here so they weren't held up for too long. Eventually they turn back to the doorway and I shuffle in closer and almost immediately jump behind someone. Really my luck really is the worst in the whole entire world; I cannot be seen like this. I refuse to be seen like this; anytime I thanked God in the last six months is now officially revoked because the big guy up there must really hate me. Damn, I've just seen a sex god and despite the fact he was wearing that 'Student Ambassador' polyester abomination; I was drooling like one of Pavlov's dogs, combined with everything else that's happened today and I look like a mess. Not a hot mess, just a plain old mess. If I close my eyes maybe he won't see me, I try and sneak towards the back of the group.

"Hey, are we ready to start with the tour now or is anyone missing?" I almost faint, his voice; I'm gonna be needing a cold shower later. Or five. A smooth baritone, the gentle inflection in his voice makes him sound like an 18th century gentleman, but it still radiates such 'emotion', so caring. Double that with his casually styled dark curls, his hazel orbs which seem to shine with an emotion I can't name and the physical perfection this boy embodies and I am ready to die and get on the fast track to heaven; I mean the tee shirt is nothing short of a travesty but the way it clings to his broad shoulders and muscled chest makes up for the garish material in my opinion. I just stare, ogle and any concept of trying to appear classy disappears and I'm sure my jaw hits the floor; that smile, those perfect pearly whites, even those weird shaped eyebrows and God those dimples.

"Yes we can, the last straggler just got here. 5 minutes late." Bitch, I'm pretty sure I was only 3 minutes late and it doesn't help that everyone starts nodding along as if I'm a Machiavellian fiend sent specifically to hinder their education; it's the first day of orientation for Stanislavski's sake . She turns to smile at me; the sickly sweet smile that could give you a cavity from prolonged exposure, a smile that says 'You're on my radar, and you don't want to be on my radar'. I would've known she was a bitch from just looking at her anyway; not only is she stupidly pretty with bright blue eyes and poker straight hair the colour of flames, she is tall and willowy; pretty much as close to perfect as you can get. I'd usually say some scathing remark, but I don't want to draw any more attention to myself; especially with a sex god a matter of metres away so I let bitch face win this round and look to the floor, already plotting a little revenge.

"Well, let's get started then. Now that we're all here, and need I remind you that in future I won't be able to wait around if anyone's late. Never be late to a lecture, because your lecturers won't let you in. Now let's go." I think I would've preferred if the ground just swallowed me whole; okay, the sex god has practically made me look like a twat. Even worse, he saw me looking like absolute shit. Great, so the first impression I was going for is completely ruined and now everyone thinks I'm a tardy invalid. Bitchface turns to actually laugh at me and I'd like nothing more than to wipe that smirk off her face, but since I'm already the 'Class Criminal' I doubt it'd help my case if I just punched her right in the throat. Sex god turns to lead us in, before turning back and running a hand through his hair; but I just glower, however hot he is I don't appreciate being made to look like an idiot in front of well strangers who could've ended up being my friends.

"Yeah and before I get, I'm Blaine Anderson and I'm kinda your student mentor for freshman year; so if you have any problems just come and chat." Ok, veto that about them potentially being my friends; because they follow bitch face like trained Dobermans, I will say it again. These are some weird ass pod people; 'Blaine' smiles at bitch face as she places her hand on his arm and it may be me being over dramatic but I can see the significance; soon enough she'll be those scarlet painted talons into him. Meh, I trail behind as they lead the way and eventually her tinkling soprano floats back to where I'm trailing behind the group.

"Oh Blaine. I'm Cynthia by the way. How is Tisch? What are you majoring in? Can you tell me about the workload?" I roll my eyes, well don't make it obvious 'Cynthia'. I mean what a ridiculous name, I thought Dominique was pretty bad but Cynthia really does take the biscuit when it comes to ridiculous names. Plus, I thought he was meant to be giving a guided tour; not playing 20 questions with the Queen Bitch. It's official, so far New York is an absolute joke; the people are all arrogant tools and I feel like a fucking kitten strolling around with lions and the sad thing is I'm guessing it only gets worse from here. I genuinely think I have the worst luck ever.

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_**I have a few chapters written already, but let me know what you think. **_

_**This story isn't only about Dom, but she will narrate the earlier portion, maybe 6 chapters or so… just to bring you upto date on life in NY for our favourite Gleeks.**_

_**Klaine, Rachel and Santana are MAJOR players in this story and I will use other McKinley alumni but I think it's refreshing to show them through another POV so my OC's are born.**_

_**Leave a review with anything you'd like to see etc. or how I can improve, you know the drill.**_

_**-Ornella **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Back again, this story is practically writing itself and the plot just winds on and on; I think I identify with Dominique and I like writing her perspective, but as I said I will probably give more insight into other characters and I know it's Klaine light right now but don't worry they're an integral part of the story.**_

I think I'm developing repetitive strain injury I've been rolling my eyes so much, this day is spiralling out of control; the whole tour so far has consisted of Blaine and Cynthia blabbering on about this elective and that performance opportunity and how New York is pivotal to their future plans. I know that we're all here for those 'future plans' but since those two made me feel like a morbidly obese Thumbelina in front of God knows many people, I don't want to listen to it; plus, trying to remember where everything was is pretty much impossible when I hear bitch face's flute like laughter every 10 seconds. Predictably, everyone else has no problem with it and are laughing along and throwing in their own little quips. I make the smart decision to stay silent, because knowing my luck I'd say something which wouldn't come across as I intended; cementing my role as the 'class leper'.

"Ya'll pissed off with these prissy idiots too?" I almost have a heart attack when I'm snapped from my inner rant and pulled back into mundane reality. I turn to look at the boy who was now trailing along with me a good three feet behind Blynthia, the portmanteau I'd christened the bitchy red head and annoying yet sexy student ambassador. I just stare at him open mouthed; usually I'd comment on something like someone's eyes but I simply cannot ignore what this boy is wearing. Flared jeans? Tartan shirt? Cowboy boots? Really, am I so bad that the only people willing to talk to me are country bumpkins?

"Ya'll alrigh' in there?" He waves a hand in front of my face and gives me a grin; now that I've already established he's a walking disaster I look at him properly. Clothes aside the boy has potential, with strawberry blonde hair that sticks up in every which direction, sea green eyes with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and a cheeky grin. I give him a reassuring smile, which makes him quirk his eyebrow.

"Sorry, I'm not crazy or ignoring you. I just turned off since I thought everyone thought I invisible, you know with the 'late' incident and I couldn't be bothered with listening to Queen Bee's running commentary of the tour." He burst out laughing and I can't help but join in, almost instantly everyone turns around to give us the stink eye and I have the sense to shut up. Cowboy boots however keeps laughing, so I nudge him in the ribs with my elbow and give him a 'shut up' look.

"Bloody hell, it wasn't that funny. We need to stay quiet or else you'll be lumped in with me in the 'never befriend' category." He just looks down at me, I'm 5'7'' and still have to crane my neck a little to look at him; shit, so that must make him 6'1'' at least. My freakishly tall, I don't want to call him a friend just yet, just shake his head and elbows me right back. And there I was thinking that boys from down south were meant to be gentlemen.

"Well if they're gonna be such ignorant primadonna's all the time I'll tell ya now, I don' wanna be there friend. And since when was it against the law to laugh? I mean we're in New York, and it seems I missed the memo about acting like a total douche." Well he's got a point, and must have two brain cells since he has the sense to whisper. I've already got onto a bad foot with these people, and being associated with someone who declares them all 'Primadonna's' isn't the best way to make friends I'm sure.

"Shhh, you don't even know these people. They could all be perfectly nice…" I see him shaking his head and I'm about to get into a full on rant about not judging a book by its cover. But I realise that would make me a complete hypocrite; I was the one who decided he was nothing but a country boy just by looking at his clothes. I just shrug, we follow the crowd as we're shown another studio and regaled with yet another story of some Tisch alumni. I'm waiting for it, 5, 2, 3, 2, 1… and there it is, cue annoying laughter. I literally cringe and that makes cowboy grin.

"Whatever, you shouldn't put them all in the 'douche' category without talking to them. Could surprise you, you know." He just looks at me, face twisted incredulously before looking at the rest of the tour group. He looks back and just shakes his head; I chance a look too and see them all giggling along with Blynthia. Okay, I'll admit it; cowboy may just have a point.

"Trust me gal, I've talked to em and they just looked at me like I was something on the bottom of their boots. I've had more interesting conversations with walls, literally back home we have a wall that creaks every so often." I can't help but laugh, a talking wall probably does have more personality than some of these people from what I've seen so far. Cowboy stands up straight and begins walking with his nose stuck in the air, looking down at me condescendingly; I pout and push him away.

"I suppose you could have a point, I admit that so far they've acted like complete tools. I doubt that they'd notice if we disappeared, and those that do would probably be glad. I mean you're the boy who keeps rattling on about them be arrogant fools and I'm the girl who'll be kicked out of class for being tardy as Hell." He chews on his lip, and looks at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes which I have a distinct feeling isn't that rare. I take a step away from him, definitely not wanting to be on whatever sinking ship he's about to jump on but before I can escape he links his arm with mine and smiles down at me before pulling me to a complete stop. God help me.

"Well, what about it? You're probably right, and for all we know their snootiness could be contagious. We should escape while we can." Is he seriously suggesting skipping the rest of the tour? Didn't he realise I was being melodramatic? But when I look to see that the rest of the group have just gone on their way without looking back once, well isn't that wonderful. I look back at cowboy and sigh in defeat, but before he has the chance to smirk I hold my finger up.

"Ok, but if anything happens like we're murdered; I'll haunt your ass in the afterlife, and if you try anything I am not afraid to mace you into next week and giving you a kick in the spuds for good measure. Got it?" He nods with a faux contrite look on his face, placing his hand above his heart which sets me off giggling. Sarcastic twat, but I suppose I don't mind since he is the only person I've met so far that hasn't A. Made me feel about an inch tall or B. Completely ignored me.

"Aw, ya'll ruined my plans for kidnapping you and locking you up in my sex dungeon. Damn, well I spose we can go grab a hot dog or something." I just raise my eyebrows; well he sure has a way of reassuring me that he isn't some neurotic serial killer. He grins to let me know he's joking and I just roll my eyes, glad that amongst the seriously stuck-up people I'm cursed to share a classroom with 4 years; I've managed to meet one person who seems to not be a complete snob, even if his wardrobe is a disaster.

"Okay then, lead the way then cowboy. I'm pretty hungry since I had to sprint here like Ussain Bolt." He chuckles before tipping an imaginary cowboy hat in my direction and offers his arm, I flutter my eyelashes just like Scarlett O'Hara before taking his arm and we're off to explore New York.

I've just brought a hot dog from a questionable looking stand just off of Times Square, but for $2.50 each nobody can complain; we walk into the omnipresent hustle and bustle of New York, trying to dodge elbows and handbags as I much on my hot dog which is surprisingly good. The onions are cooked to perfection and I make a mental reminder of the stand for future reference; cowboy practically orgasms when he takes a handful of his cheesy fries and I practically choke on my soda. He turns to glare at me and I shrug my shoulders. We push through the crowds until we're standing right in the middle of Times Square.

"It's really beautiful isn't it?" I stare at all the skyscraper buildings and the colourful billboards; even the business people who are glued to their cell phones. The atmosphere is electric and any reservations I had about coming to the Big Apple evaporate, I mean even the city sounds of car horns and paperboys just makes my heart race. This is the concrete jungle where dreams are made, and if I play my cards right; this will be the place where my dreams come true. While I just stare around in awe unashamed; Cowboys just shrugs his shoulders dismissively.

"Meh, it is definitely interesting and more than a lil intimidating but I've always found large, open spaces a lot more beautiful." He sounds a little dejected and even if I can't understand why I place my hand on his shoulder, and he gives me a quick grin before looking into the distance. If I had to make an assumption, I'd say cowboy was feeling a little home sick and I can empathise with that; I can only imagine what terror mom could inflict on the house while I'm here.

"So cowboy, you actually haven't said much about yourself other than cussing our future classmates and dragging me away from a tour I'm pretty sure is mandatory. So tell me about yourself Mr…?" I link my arm in his and start to drag him back through the crowd, in what I hope is the direction towards Central Park but knowing my luck I'll end up getting us lost. He walks with me when he realises I'm trying to drag him; filling me in on his life story while we brave the New York rush, yet again.

"Nathaniel Thornton, but just call me Nate; and there isn't much to tell. I live with my Ma and Pa in Louisville, I'm an only child and I like to watch NASCAR and WWE. I was on the scholastic decathlon team at school and I was a member of the drama society; I've never been on an aeroplane. Errr… I'm allergic to penicillin. I can't drive or speak another language and I'm freakishly scared of spiders. Oh, and if you can't already tell I really can't stand pretentious idiots." The last part has me laughing, I was expecting just a name but instead I got the concise version of his biography; we eventually emerge onto a street neither of us seem to recognise but when we look back and see how packed Times Square is. We look at each other and without saying a word, we're walking down the unknown street.

"Well, I suppose I should tell you about myself then Nate, ermm… I'm Dominique by the way, my parents are divorced but what do you expect from a hippy and a military freak. I'm an only child for all I know, but you can never be sure. I hate aeroplanes; I'd rather swim across the Atlantic Ocean… I'm allergic to latex and I never performed in a play at school, I was too busy being head cheerleader and trying to not fail geometry…Oh, and spiders shit me up too. So what brought you to New York, home of pretentiousness? And for all you know I could be the most pretentious person on the planet." I flip my hair exaggeratedly to emphasise my point, although honestly I don't like to think of myself as being pretentious at all. He looks me up and down, I squirm a little at his critical gaze but thankfully he doesn't linger anywhere like most of the male species tend to and I have to give him a bit of respect for that. He just shakes his head and grins.

"You ain't pretentious, a little weird sure. If you were a snob like them, you would be walking around like you own the place; not strolling through New York with a country boy and telling everyone how you almost failed geometry and that you're allergic to latex… I mean, you've gotta know how many sex jokes that little fact invites. And I came to New York for the same reason you probably did, I wanna work in theatre; acting or directing and well this is the place to be" I bristle when he calls me weird, but I don't get mad cause he is pretty on the mark. I am a little different from most girls trying to make it in show business, but his appearance doesn't scream 'hire me to be in your play either'. Ha, so we're definitely two dysfunctional peas in a pod.

"Well thanks, I think. You aren't too bad yourself, even if your clothes are pretty awful; and you're right, I do want to be an actress but let me tell you now that the only reason I was late is because I was trying to decide what to wear. So, I suppose I am a little bit of a snob, I wanted people to like me and I did kind of think you were a country bumpkin till I started talking to you. Sorry" I shrug my shoulders, he's the one person who's been nice and here I am letting my mouth run away with me. I really need to go to the doctors and see if they can reattach my brain to my vocal chords, he looks at me for a second and then he just shrugs.

"Yeah, but it didn't stop you talking to me did it? And I hope you've changed your mind on the 'bumpkin' front now, but hey nobody is perfect. You're vain and I'm pretty much an all-round idiot, so it's fine. Now screw this psychoanalysis shit we're probably doing and go and explore New York, it's our first day after all." I smile, and however cliché it seems right then I know for a fact I've made my first friend in New York; if he can tolerate my vanity and my ability to almost constantly put my foot in my mouth then I don't think we're gonna have too many problems.

"You're right, so where are we off to next?"

Today has been pretty amazing, and Nate has been nothing short of wonderful. He's had me in stitches most of the day with his comic anecdotes of life back in Kentucky; so all in all, I'm pretty glad I skipped that damn tour because I would've missed walking around Central Park, when we actually managed to find the place. I would've missed Nate screaming when I pointed out a spider in a shop's window display; I would've missed out on drinking my very first New York's Starbucks, which is so much better than Chicago's Starbucks but most importantly I would've missed out on the grand opportunity of shopping on Fifth Avenue. Even if I can hear my credit card practically weeping for the abuse I've put it through. Right now, we're walking back towards our dorms after stopping an elderly lady to get some directions. Note to self: always plan your route through the city, because people do not like to be stopped and asked for directions.

"You know, I thought southern gentlemen were meant to offer to carry a woman's bags." I glare pointedly at the plethora of bags I'm holding, I can barely walk with all the weight; every step feels like a fucking mile and Nate is just ambling along at a leisurely place and taking in all the sights. He just looks at the bags and then back at me before taking a sip of his milkshake.

"If you didn't want to carry it, you shouldn't have bought that much. But I suppose this one time I'll help you out." He takes more than half of the bags and I almost sigh in relief; I roll my shoulders and beam at Nate. Maybe he's right though, if I plan on going on another spree like this I better plan ahead. I.E, finding a man to bring who won't mind carrying my bags.

"Thank you so much, I can finally feel my arms again. Honestly, I thought they were gonna drop off… errm, So what electives are you planning on taking?" He rolls his eyes for my being over dramatic, but literally I couldn't feel my arms when I was hauling around those bags like a ball and chain. I smirk at the look of surprise on his face; we hadn't talked about school once today, instead choosing to talk about our lives back home and I wouldn't be shocked if he'd forgotten about school entirely.

"I dunno really, I haven't actually thought about it. Probably English Lit, a bit of music if I can. Acting and directing obviously, maybe psychology….Pssshhh, I really don't know. You?" I blush, I haven't thought about it either; I chew on my lip and try and think of a perfect set of classes quickly but I just draw a blank. Nate smirks at the look on my face, obviously enjoying my discomfort. The sadist, so I bump him with my shoulder which just makes his smirk grow like it's on steroids.

"Well, probably English as well; I wouldn't mind brushing up on my French … I would consider music, but I doubt I'm talented enough in all honesty. Acting obviously… I always like sports, so I might try something physical… I'll make a firm decision later. You gonna try and do any extra-curricula's?" He nods along, he looks surprised that I said I wanted to do sport; don't know why since I'd already told him about my love for hockey and cheerleading.

"Well I wouldn't mind getting cast in some of the plays, might try out for the football team…Whatever takes my fancy at the fresher's fare really. What bout you?" I switch my bags into my other hand, thinking. I really want to slap myself for not thinking about these things properly before coming to New York. Nate just grins while I take the time to think of an answer that doesn't look like I've come to college without the tiniest bit of planning ahead. He quirks his eyebrow, obviously he's expecting an answer. I groan and look up to the sky, hoping to either get struck by lightning or an epiphany.

"Okay, I hadn't thought about that either…Probably plays, might try out for the musical if it isn't something awful. I think I'll avoid cheerleading to be fair, too much bitchiness and I'm guessing we'll have to deal with more than our fair share of bitch divas in class… I wanna try something new, something that I've never done before. I know that for sure." We've arrived back at Weinstein Hall; he holds the door open for me and I smile, maybe there is a southern gentlemen hidden somewhere. But the smile only lasts two seconds when we're greeted with an elevator and its 'Out of order' sign. Seriously, you would've thought they would have something as an elevator functional for orientation week at the least; I'm pretty sure it was working earlier too. So it seems God is back to playing 'How can I piss off Dominique now?' It definitely seems to be one of his favourite pastimes.

"Bet you wish you didn't do so much shopping now eh?" Nate's smart ass comment is forced out through his manic laughter; I turn round at practically growl at him, now that shuts him up pretty quickly. I grin in satisfaction when he actually backs away a few steps and hold his hands up in mock surrender, seems I haven't lost my touch. I look towards the stairs and feel my shoulders slump.

We finally plough up the 3 flights of stairs and I slump against the wall outside of my dorm room while I try and find my keys in my handbag; Nate just throws my bags on the floor and wipes his hand across his forehead. I just roll my eyes while admonishing him that if anything is broken then he'd be paying for a replacement. They weren't that heavy to be fair; plus, aren't men meant to be strong? You'd of thought I'd made him carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. I finally find my keys, I push the key into the lock when Nate speaks up.

"So you doing anything tonight?" I turn around and pretend to think about it before shaking my head. I don't have any plans, I mean I've been running around like a headless chicken all day; I haven't had time to make plans. Plus, the only thing I intend to do is have a shower and curl up in bed.

"Nah, I'm thinking an early night if every day of orientation is gonna be like this one. You doing anything? Are you gonna miss me?" I bat my eyelashes flirtatiously and he gives me a wink before we both end up laughing. He just shakes his head and gestures at the door.

"You gonna go in, or are we just gonna stand around with your shopping bags like losers all day?" I huff, and turn my back to him while I push open my door. I pick up some bags and walk in, Nate follows with the rest of my bags in his hand; it seems my roommate has moved in, I look at the mocha and pale tangerine bed sheets. Nice, so I'm not living with someone who is effectively retarded in the art of interior design like I suspect Nate is; there are a number of photo's littering a corkboard and a mac on the desk.

"Well, I'm gonna get going then. Let you get to know ya roommate and all that. Give us your number and I'll drop you a text later and see if you wanna do anything?" I save his number under cowboy when the door opens and in walks my mystery roommate. I almost die; in fact I have a violent urge to throw myself from my third storey window onto the concrete below. Nate turns to look at me, and I wish I could slap that look right off of his face. He winks and mouths 'good luck' and then he's gone, left me to the sharks. It genuinely seems that God is having his fun today because I'm stuck rooming with none other than one half of fucking Blynthia for the next year, complete with her modelesque grace, striking features and that perfectly straight red hair.

Cynthia. Fucking. I can't remember her last name right now but that's beside the point. What did I do to deserve this? Is it because of me skipping out on the tour? And judging by the fact the room's temperature seems to have dropped 10 degrees while she stares at me, both scrutinising me and conveying her disapproval; I know for a fact she knows about my disappearing act earlier in the day. We just stare at each other; actually she stares at me while I just stand there like a rabbit caught in headlights. She folds her arms across her chest and I mirror her actions subconsciously praying for a reason to look away. PING.

Thank you Baby Jesus and Mary, I look down and pull out my phone; smiling to see a text from Nate. Maybe he'll be willing to come and referee the catfights I'm pretty sure will ensue me having to spend more time in the presence of bitch face than what's academically necessary. No such luck, the smile slips off of my face a lot quicker than it appeared once I've opened the message.

_From: Cowboy_

_This is karma, don't know what for… but it is! _

_LOL_

The only thing I'm gonna be getting karmic retribution for anytime soon is for the murder of both my roommate who is yet to do anything but glare at me, and my only friend in New York who seems to find great amusement in my misfortune. Charming. I throw my phone onto my bed, because I'm really not in the mood to send Nate death threats anytime soon. As I turn back to what I'm sure will be the first of many showdowns with Cynthia I take a deep breath and think that despite meeting Nate, it is still a pretty shitty day.

**Another chapter done and dusted. Let me know what you think… About Nate, about Dom and the fact she got landed with Cynthia as a roomie ;)**

**So next chapter: **

**Dominique and Cynthia have a little chat.**

**We learn some things about Dominique from an unlikely source, can anyone guess who?**

**We get some Blaine POV, with the New Directions living in New York.**

**-Ornella**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, which sucks!**_

_**I've been ill and thought I'd give readers a longer chapter, plus I want to get ahead to interactions with Klaine, Santana etc.**_

* * *

_**Dominique Goodacre**_

Cynthia and I are just staring at one another; her blue eyes meet my brown in what I'd describe as a silent battle of the wills, an abstract power struggle to be the Alpha bitch in this dorm. It's kind of surreal if I'm being honest but I just can't look away; it feels as though I'd be backing down and she may have made me look like an idiot earlier but that shit isn't going to happen now, plus she's already got one over on me and I'll be damned if she's getting the best of me again anytime soon. I feel a tickle in my throat but I refuse to clear it, she raises her eyebrows and I just shuffle uncomfortably; screw this, I need a shower. I suppose I should just go with the 'band aide' approach and get it over and done with.

"Errrmm… So are we seriously just gonna stand here all day? Cause if we're going to be frank, it's incredibly awkward and my feet are killing me from traipsing around the city; plus, I really need to unpack." Cynthia just stares at me nonplussed and I feel like doing a little happy dance, but we're all mature adults so I settle for a small smile. I can bet she's never been spoken to like that, and I'm more than happy to play the role of bitch if it means I can escape this 'awkward' bubble. Plus, apart from mine and Nate's escapades today has been pretty awful.

"You were late for the guided tour." Well isn't she astute? I was expecting a dramatic outburst, maybe something being thrown so the simple statement has stumped me a little; but I know this game. She's trying to lure me into a false sense of security, before springing an eloquent yet vicious beat down; good luck with that one missy, cause I've got a few tricks of my own hidden up my sleeve.

"I commend you for your unquestionable skills of observation, but I'm very much aware I was late. You see, I was the person who almost gave myself a heart attack running through the streets trying to be on time; and it was like 3 minutes anyway." She remains unaffected by my sarcastic barbs, in fact she remains eerily motionless and trails her eyes up and down my figure; it's pretty uncomfortable because my intuition is telling me that like some high tech robot she was scanning for weaknesses and the smile that unfurls across her exquisite face tells me that she's found some. Or maybe she just thinks I'm pathetic, neither option is particularly appealing.

"Let me break it down for you, I don't appreciate tardiness and I can guarantee that anybody who is anybody agrees with me. It's unprofessional and nobody will ever appreciate that." What the fuck? I'd love to tell her how I don't give a shit what she thinks but that would just make me look petty; she's probably bugged the room and is recording everything to show all the other pompous brats who're probably gonna share classes with us. I think about it for a second and then I want to bang my head against the wall; now I sound like a paranoid freak.

"I'm sorry Cynthia, but it was literally 3 minutes. I mean, we didn't miss anything and you got your tour in the end. It's not as if anybody died." God, I am really starting to regret the whole 'what should I wear fandango?' If I'd have bowled up to that tour on time I could have delayed this conversation, but I know it was always bound to happen. I mean, this girl's mere presence rubs me up the wrong way so it would've been inevitable that we would've faced each other down so I suppose it's better sooner than later. Another silver lining to yet another crappy situation.

"It could kill your career, 3 minutes late to one rehearsal on a professional stage and you can be cut quicker than you're rolling your eyes at everything I'm saying; would you turn up to an audition late? And why would you arrive to a scheduled school event late? I think it's appalling that you hold your education here is such poor regard. Don't you realise that people would kill to be in your place, studying at this establishment." I think my eyebrows have migrated north and are currently vacationing with my hairline. This girl is like some female version of my dad with her twisted wordplay, and that is one scary thought; I'm kinda tempted to phone my dad and see if he's dead because Cynthia could easily pass as his reincarnation. I'm trying to decide if she is a military kid, a lawyer's kid or a politician's kid; she just looks at me and I realise I'm standing here catching flies.

"Hold up, I earned my place here and auditioned; just like you. I've worked hard and I'm proud of what I achieved; and I'd really appreciate you reigning in the character assassination and to try and not presume things." I am seconds away of bursting into tears, don't blame me though; it's my inner drama queen. I'm so frustrated, I started out on the offence and now I'm backed into the corner in full on defence mode. I swear, I'm about to crack while Cynthia is practically ripping me to pieces as cool as a cucumber, in an icebox, in Antarctica.

"I wouldn't be presumptuous Dominique…" "How do you know my name?" Oh my God, is she a stalker or something? I try to discretely scan the room for anything she could throttle me with while I sleep. She runs her hand through her silky mane, and sighs exasperatedly before pointing to one of my boxes which are labelled 'Dominique Goodacre'. Shit, I am really stupid; I feel my cheeks burning a vivid crimson as they radiate my unadulterated embarrassment. But to be fair, she was being presumptuous again; those boxes could've belonged to anyone before they fell into my possession. That argument would sound so much more impressive if she was actually wrong though.

"As I was saying before you interrupted, I wouldn't be presumptuous if you didn't act in such a way that allows me to make such presumptions; not only you were late but I noticed you disappeared less than half way through the tour and then you turn up here hours later with an entourage of shopping bags. It kind of implies that you find shopping more important than your education." Fuckity fuck, I knew it. I knew that she would notice mine and Nate's disappearing act. I open my mouth but no words come out, a triumphant smirk appears on her face and she simply breezes past me to lie on her bed. She lazily flicks through a Vogue magazine while she undoubtedly basks in her 'little victory' in our war of the wits.

"Oh well… it was just a pointless tour, I mean it doesn't affect my grade. I mean, classes haven't started yet or anything." I grimace, that sounded like an awful excuse; even to me. Cynthia looks at me and I'm shocked to see pity shining in her cerulean gaze and that's what pushes me over the edge, I feel tears sting my eyes as I collapse onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. Bitch face is never going to see me cry unless it's required on stage.

"You see, it might have been 'pointless' to you. But that is what separates stars from people with just talent; vicious determination and an attention to detail. Everything can be used to give you an advantage." I just turn to glare at her, she may be admitting that I could have talent but she's implying that she is superior to me; all over a bloody tour. I turn to lie on my side facing her bed with my head propped on my hand.

"Pray tell, how you managed to somehow get an advantage from being shown around an old building? I suppose you know where the fire exits are, but they're generally easy to find." Cynthia closes her magazine and mirrors my position once again completely ignoring my petulant jibe, I grimace when I realise she looks a lot better than I do lying on the bed. She just looks down at her nails, a coy smile appearing on her face.

"Well, today I met a sophomore named Blaine, the adorable student ambassador, who was kind enough to give me advance warning of the plays we'd be studying this year as well as the planned performances; I've been able to start looking ahead and planning roles to audition for and the speeches I'd use. Plus, I've begun to lay down the foundations of a relationship with him, and the other students; it's networking and building a strong network is what gets you jobs. It might have been sold as just a tour, but I turned it into an investment for my time here at Tisch." OK, so she is quite possibly the most devious bitch ever. I mean, that was a stroke of pure genius and even if it reeks of manipulation; it wasn't as if she did anything wrong. I need to start being extra careful around Cynthia from now on, she could obviously make you believe that 2 + 2 = 5 if she wanted; and somehow twist whatever you might say or do to meet her own agenda. That's it; I'm going to have to learn how to sleep with one eye open.

"Er, well that's nice to know, but I really need to get unpacking; I mean we have got a busy week ahead of us." Abort mission. I give up on trying to wrestle Cynthia into submission in this subtle war of words; I'll try again once I've got a better understanding of how her freakish mind works; I shuffle over to the boxes and start unpacking my posters to line the walls. My Andy Warhol inspired poster of Anne Hathaway takes pride above my bed; I like to stare at it every night to know why I'm here, to somehow establish a career as half as successful as hers.

The silence that blankets the room isn't uncomfortable to be fair, I'm looking at photos of me and mom, my friends and thinking back on High School and how college isn't that different; you can guarantee that cliques are going to be formed, drama will works its way into everyone's everyday lives and the only thing most people are going to care about is who is sleeping with who and their own reputations. I know a lot of people come to college hoping to escape the conventions of high school, but I take comfort in these similarities; I survived high school, and I've dealt with all these underhand games before and somehow came out on top of all my former 'nemesis'', even if there were more than a few bumps on those particularly unpleasant roads.

Eventually Cynthia puts on some music and I nod my head, begrudgingly, in appreciation of her musical tastes; 'Naïve' by a British band called the Kooks. I hum along with the melody as I change my bed sheets and apply the finishing touches to my side of the room; I take a step back and admire my handiwork, the colour scheme of lilac and pale yellow reminds me of home and I can't help but smile as I snap a picture of the décor before tweeting it with the caption 'Home, Sweet Home'.

I try to ignore the fact that in comparison to Cynthia's chic styling, my decorations look a little mismatched and eccentric; but our décor choices speak volumes. Purple and yellow clash with her more sophisticated orange and brown, and while my desk is in a state of organised chaos; hers is perfectly laid out so that everything is easy to find. I smirk at this physical representation of how our personalities are destined to clash. The music disappears and I turn to look at Cynthia sitting on her bed observing me with a contemplative expression, and I can't help but squirm under her unfaltering gaze.

"You know, Dominique. We don't have to play these silly games; going for one another's throats is just childish and counterproductive. I mean this bitchiness will get us nowhere and I can't squash the feeling that you could be a much more valuable asset than you're letting on and I don't have time to eliminate you as a threat. I think it would be better for us to have a mutually beneficial relationship where we help one another out rather than hinder each other. After all, everyone makes mistakes and overlooks things; and I'll admit it is better to do such things now than in the future."

And now I'm back to square one when it comes to the impossible track of understanding my roommate; I mean one second she's jumping down my throat about this whole skipping the tour thing and now she's acting all understanding. I think I need to sit down, this whole situation is giving me major whiplash; I can't help but feel flattered that she thinks I could be a threat even though I've done nothing but make a tit of myself in front of her and I have to respect her bluntness in regards to how she plans to manipulate me and allow me to manipulate her in return. But something about this just gives me the creeps, you know that gut feeling you just can't explain; well it's telling me to walk on eggshells around Cynthia and right now, I trust my gut. I arrange my features into a nervous smile.

"Ok, that sounds good." I don't know what else to say really, 'thanks for giving me a complete and utter mind fuck, now how do you plan on exploiting me when you know naff all about me?' doesn't really sound like a suitable response. So I settle for not making any promises, or incurring the wrath of someone who I'm pretty sure is an evil mastermind who could potentially be a modern Napoleon; that could actually be the smartest thing I've done all day. Cynthia just smiles at me, flashing me her perfect teeth which literally shine; but there's something predatory in that smirk of hers and I can't help but feel like a fly in a spider's web.

"Great, well I've been planning a small gathering tonight for quite a few people from this morning. It'd help to try and redeem yourself, and meet people of course." Oooo burn, I mean kick me while I'm down and remind me that firstly everyone else thinks of me as some truant, and that unlike her I've managed to have a conversation with only one person all day whereas she has been planning nights out with all her new pod people followers.

"I find it hard to think that I actually need to redeem myself for anything; I mean, whatever I decided to do didn't affect them. I didn't commit a crime." I flop down onto my bed again; I pick up my copy of 'Brideshead Revisited' by Evelyn Waugh. I'm reading about Charles' implied homoerotic fantasies about Sebastian when I feel Cynthia perch herself at the bottom of my bed. I pull myself up and put my book on my bedside table; she reaches over to pat my arm, radiating sympathy and I can't help but think she's being a bit condescending.

"If you recall, I never said explicitly that you did anything wrong exactly; I just pointed out that your actions could be interpreted as lacking in commitment. I mean tonight could be the chance to make a 'new' first impression, so what do you say?" I'll admit that she has made a valid point, I mean the reason I was late is because I was spazzing out about making a first impression; so it'd be nice to have that opportunity. But I can think of a myriad of things I'd rather do than having to hang around with the 'pretentious plebs' as Nate so affectionately calls them; such as pulling out all of my teeth with a pair of rusty pliers. So it's time for a tactical escape.

"I'm so sorry…Gotta take a rain check, I've already made plans with Nate and I can't really back out of them. Definitely another time though." When Cynthia smiles, I give her an uneasy smile in return; she floats back over to her bed and picks up her magazine. Cue my sigh of relief, that was definitely a narrow escape. I snatch my phone up and send a text to Nate.

_To: Cowboy_

_Guess what? We're going out tonight._

_Cynthia has put fear of God in me. So if you don't come out,_

_I will make sure your beloved KARMA bitchslaps you into next week._

_-Dom xx_

"Nate is the cute cowboy right? Well next time, you should definitely bring him when we go out. I'd love to get to know him a little more." I almost scoff, Cynthia might be able to back me into a corner but I doubt it would work with Nate; he definitely wouldn't be afraid to put her in her place. This is something I would pay to see, as well as seeing him have to play nice with Cynthia and her legion of sycophants. I just nod along. My phone buzzes with a received message.

_From: Cowboy_

_Oh I spose so, wouldn't wanna piss karma off would I?_

_I'll protect you from big, bad Cynthia :D Did you wet yourself?_

_Tbh I do feel bad for you, I can't imagine having to be round that snob._

_-Nate_

"I'm pretty sure he'd like to spend some time with you too. I'm gonna go and have a shower now, gotta get ready and everything." While I'm grabbing my toiletries, I can't keep the grin off of my face. Nate shouldn't have laughed at me earlier, because now I'm going to ensure he gets to spend some 'quality time' of his own with my enigmatic roommate.

* * *

_**Blaine Anderson.**_

I push through the door to our shared apartment in Brooklyn, I'm exhausted from having to show the freshman around all day but as Kurt said; it looks good to do these kinds of things. I would've preferred spending all day in bed with Kurt in all honesty, but his term began last week and he's been swamped with this audition and that dance class since so I thought I may as well do something to pass the time while he's so busy at school. It's taking its toll on him; I can see how his smiles are slowly becoming more and more forced and how his eyelids droop when we lie in bed at night. But he refuses to admit that it could be too much for him, and when I see that defiant glint appear in his shining cobalt eyes I know it's futile to argue with him.

It's horrific to see the man you love slump through the door, too exhausted to do anything but drag himself into the shower and then into bed; I've noticed that as of late he's been neglecting his intensive night time moisturising routine which just cements the fact that NYADA's rigorous regime is crushing him, I've tried to talk to him again and again but he just dismisses my concerns; declaring my worries are 'over dramatic' and insisting that he's more than capable of dealing with whatever Cassandra July , Carmen Tibideux and the rest of the NYADA faculty throw at him.

I've always admired Kurt's strength and his perseverance but I think he's taking too much on; just last night, before he passed out, he told me he was going to be designing and making the costumes for the autumn musical 'Miss Saigon'. I'm going to have to have a serious chat with him, make him realise that if he doesn't stop soon he'll spontaneously combust. I walk in and all I see is Santana lounging across the sofa watching The Ellen Show, periodically groaning at the TV and muttering to herself in Spanish; I put my keys on the counter and walk into the living room. Santana looks up, rolling her eyes when she sees me; she grudgingly lifts her legs and lets me sit down.

"So boyfriend, how was it? Showing snot-faced brats around, I can't think of a better way I'd like to have spent my day." I ignore her sarcasm; she's obviously bored and wants to get a rise out of me. Unfortunately for her, I'm not like Kurt or Rachel; I don't take offence at the little things she says, especially when the smile on her face lets me know she was only joking. She may have been called female Satan once upon a time, but I'd like to think that spending so much time around us has softened her a bit or at least desensitised us to her vicious words. I mean, she's been sharing an apartment with Rachel and Kurt for 3 years, and however much I love them, I have to admit that it demonstrates an admirable amount of patience on Santana's behalf.

"Fine, I just had to show them the studio's and answer any questions they had. Bit boring." I lean back in the chair, closing my eyes. Who would've thought that walking around a few buildings could be so wearisome? I reckon fielding off that Cynthia girl's never ending stream of questions is what did it. Santana perks up a little bit upon hearing my dejected tone.

"Aww what's the matter? Does one of the wonder twins need Auntie Snix to go all Lima Heights on some poor bitch's ass?" I smile to dispel any of her worries, despite her 'Lima Heights' bravado and the bitch persona she wears as her faithful mask; Santana does care. She might constantly bitch Rachel out, she might give us a colourful range of demeaning nicknames but that doesn't hide the fact she loves each and every one of us in her own way; you can see it in the way concern lights up her big, brown eyes or when she unleashes her famous 'Snix juice' on anyone who upsets one of her flatmates.

"I'm really fine, just a bit tired. The freshman were all enthusiastic, there was this one girl called Cynthia who radiated so much ambition it would put Rachel to shame. But they were all nice, some seemed a bit pompous but it's expected." Santana rolls her eyes and lies back down, probably a bit disappointed that there's no one she can unleash her wrath on. I grin as I think of Santana being locked in a cage like a tame panther, not that I'd ever vocalise such a thing because I don't doubt that Santana would literally rip me to pieces just to prove the point that she's as badass as ever.

"K, well you can shut up now. I'm watching my Ellen, and then Imma write a comment on my lesbian subtext blogs." I nod my head while she flicks through the channels, I can tell that however much she enjoys being in New York; Santana is missing something, or more accurately someone, but I'm not a brave enough man to bring Brittany up when in reaching distance of the fiery Latina. I settle for just rubbing her leg in quiet reassurance that earns me a glare which soon becomes an appreciative smile.

We sit and watch TV in amicable silence; mine and Santana's relationship has grown gastronomically since I moved to the Big Apple and the dynamic of our relationship shocks a lot of people. We don't feel the need to fill every moment with pointless chit chat because despite the outward differences of me as the dapper boy who loves to sing and dance and her being the outspoken Latina, we have a mutual understanding; a love for everyone we share our life with and a willingness to do everything we can to help them. Eternally outshined by the radiance of Kurt, Rachel, Brittany and even Mercedes, Mike and Quinn; we live with the hope of being able to be what they need and hopefully earning the right to say we deserve them in our lives.

"So, have you seen Kurt or Rach at all?" Santana looks over, however hard I try I've never been able supress the undiluted affection that fills my voice whenever I talk about Kurt; something she takes great pleasure in teasing me about and how it is borderline God worshipping. I raise my eyebrow, not wanting to play Santana's waiting game of how long it takes to make Blaine crack before he starts begging news of Kurt. She just gives me a wink and licks her lips provocatively; I will concede that some things about Santana Lopez will never change.

"Don't give yourself an aneurysm Blainey Babes, Lady Hummel is perfectly fine. Actually the way he and Man Hands have been running around all day like there's a clear-out sale at Awful Fashion Inc. With those stupid grins like Catholic Priests in a day-care centre, I wouldn't be surprised if tonight was the night that yours and Porcelain's little sex draught comes to an end with a torrential downpour or four. Wanky." Santana winks again and I feel a blush creeping onto my cheeks, I still don't understand how Santana can talk so casually about sex; never mind other people's sex lives. Neither Kurt nor I are prudes, but we try and keep our intimate lives private. I take a deep breathe to compose myself, because Santana has the uncanny ability to sense weakness like a shark can smell blood and any hesitance on my behalf is an open invitation for her to pounce.

"Not that it concerns you Tana, but me and Kurt are just fine that department…" She is shaking her head disbelievingly and I falter; maybe because for once I know that she's right. Our sex life has all but disappeared; we always shared a healthy libido but with us both at college with packed schedules and all these extracurricular activities we're both doing. We hardly have the time to talk about our in the bedroom before Kurt slips into a deep sleep, so our physical interactions at the moment are limited to chaste kisses and we've had to revert to our old ways of 'booking make-out sessions' to satisfy our more base 'needs'.

I've been racking my brain for ways of how to improve this particular situation; I've always romanced Kurt but this is an issue of time. I turn to Santana, and however much I don't like the idea of involving someone else in mine and Kurt's private life I think she could help and more importantly I trust her to; she studies at NYU, has a job and yet she still makes time to keep her bed warm with a new woman whenever it takes her fancy and then she keeps up to date with all of her blogs, goes to the gym and has a rowdy social life in comparison to mine, Kurt's and Rachel's. I wonder how she does it, it seems impossible; but before I can even form the words in my head. The front door crashes open.

As soon as I lay eyes on Kurt the effect is instantaneous; despite the cliché's I feel my heart begin to race and I smile. It's like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time; I doubt Kurt will ever comprehend the potency of the spell he holds over me. I love everything about this man, his flawless porcelain skin, his perfectly coiffed chestnut locks; his long legs and lean figure; his stubborn nature and even if snappiness. The list goes on and on, but nothing is more satisfying than seeing the love reflected in his eyes; knowing that of all the men Kurt could choose, by some twist of fate he chose me and that's what makes me both the happiest and the luckiest man alive.

Like a scene from a classic Hollywood film, I feel as if time slows down as he moves towards me. He moves towards me with unrivalled grace, our eyes connected and all I can see is pure joy. He leans in towards me, I inhale his delectable scent of vanilla and the moment our lips meet is pure bliss; as if I've been in agony all day and the touch of his lips is the only painkiller. As always Kurt lips feel like satin as he presses them against my own, I close my eyes and give myself over to my senses; the feel that an electric current is racing through my body and when I feel Kurt's hand twining in my hair I let out an almost animalistic growl. We're pulled from our cocoon of ecstasy by someone clearing their throat.

We jump apart like the teenagers that we are, well I am; Kurt links his hand with mine and rests against the arm of the chair, he smiles down at me with a wink and I can't help but think Santana may have been prophetic with what she said earlier about the 'sex draught' coming to an end. This thought puts a bashful grin on my face and I can't even begin to feel embarrassed by the fact that our flatmates were witnesses to our little encounter. Rachel is staring pointedly at the floor, her cheeks tainted with a crimson blush; at least it appears that she was to give us some semblance of privacy. Santana on the other hand was openly watching her head tilted to the side with a coquettish curl of her lips; she catches me looking and raises an eyebrow.

"Well however arousing it may have been to witness your homo-explosion, I'm pretty sure it has burnt poor Berry's virgin eyes…" Rachel looked indignant and opened her mouth as if to say something, but it snaps shut when Santana glares in her direction. Santana turn back with a smile, causing me and Kurt to roll our eyes. "As I was saying before someone tried to interrupt me. However wanky your little tryst was, does anyone want to explain why Kurt and Rachel look as if they've just won the lottery? I'm guessing nose job and testosterone injections."

It must be good news since neither Kurt nor Rachel reacts to Santana's insults; I can't help but frown a little and squeeze my love's hand, letting him know that he is more than manly enough for me. He just continues to beam as he and Rachel share a 'significant' look, probably silently arguing over who gets to share the news; eventually Kurt just nods his head and Rachel jumps up and claps her hands. Santana just starts to file her nails, already bored with having to wait.

"Well this may not come as a surprise to any of you, since you're both aware of the tremendous amount of work me and Kurt have undertaken at NYADA. But we have been chosen to take part in a brand new and highly selective module. We have been handpicked to participate in what is called a P.I.C; a practice in context. And as musical theatre majors, our context is to work on Broadway. Next week, Kurt and I will begin a work placement at none other than the Gershwin Theatre; ironically the very first Broadway stage that both myself and Kurt ever performed on, its illustrious history includes being the home of the American Theatre Hall of Fame…" Santana hold up her hand, we're all smiling along with Rachel whose blatant enthusiasm is infectious but Rachel shuts up and looks at Santana expectedly.

"Berry, whatever it is sounds amazing but I don't get what you're going on about. You've got a job when you're already moaning about how much work you have to do and how it supresses you as an artist. Sounds stupid to me, so I ain'ts gonna be your shoulder to cry on if it all gets too much. You gets me? Now nod your head so I know you understand me" Rachel's face crunches up in confusion and I can't help but agree with Santana; Kurt's already doing so much, adding more to his plate could begin to put more pressure on our relationship. But before I can voice my worries Kurt places a finger on my lips and rolls his eyes before going to join Rachel, whose previous enthusiasm has returned tenfold. Santana looks at me and just shakes her head. Kurt clears his throat to get our attention.

"What Rachel failed to explain is that our period of work at the Gershwin would replace our usual lectures; of course we would still be maintaining our extracurricular commitments but altogether it comes out that we'd have a lot more time to ourselves. So we wouldn't only be getting professional experience on Broadway, we'd also have spare time to pursue other avenues we'd like to explore."

As he finishes speaking he looks over to me and gives a flirtatious smile, well it seems that any 'issues' I thought we had in regards to our relationship have seemingly evaporated and I literally feel a weight disappear from my shoulders. I see Santana throw a knowing glance before I throw myself at Kurt, wrapping him in my arms. His melodic laughter rings out as Rachel throws her arms around us both, jumping up and down. As if it were perfectly choreographed we all turn to look at Santana who just rolls her eyes and groans in defeat before running over to join in with the group hug.

We stay like that for a few moments before Santana breaks away muttering in Spanish but she gives us one of her genuine smiles before disappearing into the kitchen. Rachel is crying and gives us both a kiss on the cheek before pulling out her cell phone and rushing from the room while saying something about phoning her dads. Me and Kurt are left standing there when he whispers 'I missed you' into my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine before I crush my lips to his.

"Now, to celebrate I thought we could have some of me special Snix juice." Santana walks into the room, a teasing grin on her face; rolling her eyes at finding Kurt and I locked in another passionate embrace. From behind her back she pulls a bottle of tequila; I hear Kurt's sigh, I turn to look at him. Kurt isn't the biggest fan of alcohol and only really drinks for special occasions; the quirk of his eyebrow suggests this might be one of those equations as he takes the bottle, reading the label.

"I suppose this good news might warrant a few, social drinks. Then maybe a trip to Call Backs or Smokey Joe's jazz bar." He gives a pointed look in my direction when he says 'social drinks' and I duck my head in embarrassment; it's a well-known fact that I can't handle my drink. I look into his eyes sending wordless apologies for all the times I've made a fool of myself thanks to my fickle friend alcohol, he just laughs and trails his finger across my jawline mouthing the word 'behave'. I simply nod my head, once again amazed by the way my boyfriend can ascertain control of me without even trying; I feel as though I'm a mere puppet and he's my puppet master, but I don't care. In fact I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Now that you two have finished having eye sex, go and get some glasses. I needs to get my drink on…Oh and bring some of the wine coolers and beers from the fridge. Everyone knows Man Hand is as bad as Blainey Boo when it comes to handling her liquor." We all laugh as we remember some of Rachel's more amusing drunken moments, and when Kurt looks at me I know he's remembering what we all refer to as the Rachel Berry trainwreckextravaganza. I practically squirm in discomfort when I look back on the events of that night; earning a superior glimpse from Kurt in my direction and a bark of laughter from Rachel.

Eventually we're all seated around the coffee table, with my head resting in Kurt's lap and Santana lying in the loveseat cradling her bottle of tequila; we're all pretty buzzed and I'm content to sit here listening to the steady rhythm of Kurt's heart as he explains to Santana what kind of things he'll be getting up to at the Gershwin. Santana is nodding along, but I suspect she isn't really listening when I look over to see her pouring more tequila down her throat and rolling her eyes as Kurt talks about working with the manager of costume design. Kurt is stroking my head when Rachel bursts back into the room; the smile slides from her face when she sees the alcohol on the table, becoming replaced with a disapproving glare which is directed more so at Kurt than me or Santana.

"Oh Berry, don't be a bore. We're celebrating remember? We're going to work at the Gershwin, to rub shoulders with the stars of Broadway; with our future fellow cast members." I share a smirk with Santana; Kurt and alcohol usually mix for either hilarious or catastrophic consequences. A common sign is the rapid growth in his flamboyance and the tendency to become overly affectionate. He clambers to his feet, devoid of his usual grace, and shuffles like Bambi on ice to pull Rachel into a bear hug and lifting her off her feet. Santana can't contain her mirth as Rachel lets out a small scream, but when Kurt places her haphazardly back on her feet she is smiling and with an exasperated shrug of her shoulders she picks up a wine cooler before plopping down next to me on the sofa.

"Blaine, I've just spoken to my Daddy's and while they were full of congratulations for mine and Kurt's fabulous opportunity…" Rachel pauses dramatically and smiles when Kurt claps his hand and takes another swig of his wine cooler, Santana just shakes her head and knocks back more tequila. "They also gave me some interesting news, it seems that my cousin is studying at the Tisch; she'd be a freshman and she's planning on becoming an acting major so it's more than likely she was on the tour this morning. Daddy Leroy heard from Auntie Elaina that she moved in today for orientation." We're all shocked for a moment, we'd never really heard of Rachel having family besides her Dad's and I actually see Santana wince at the thought of another Rachel roaming the streets of New York; Kurt is nodding along contentedly and leaning in to listen to Rachel.

"Ermm.. I dunno Rach; I only really learnt a few names. There was a girl as ambitious as you I suppose, does she have red hair? Cynthia?" The willowy red head from earlier did remind me of Rachel, her constant bombardment of questions and enthusiasm for entry into a performing arts school. Rachel just shakes her head, looking confused.

"No her name is Dominique, I think I have a picture from earlier this year somewhere…" Eventually Rachel shows me her phone, there is a picture of her and a very attractive girl with long blonde hair which is pulled in a messy bun, flawless pale skin and big brown eyes, and she's fairly tall although I'd guess anyone would seem tall standing next to Rachel. She's smiling and looking into the camera, and she does look familiar. I think back, chewing my lip and then it hits me.

"Oh, I remember seeing her; she was the girl who was late. I felt bad for her, she was panting like a dog when she showed up and if I'm not mistaken she skipped out on most of the tour cause she wasn't there for the Q&A at the end. I'd never of guessed you were related to be fair." Rachel looks appalled when I tell her that her cousin was late and practically murderous when I said she'd skipped out on the tour and right then I pitied this Dominique girl. The bubbly brunette just leans back and takes a long swig of her wine cooler.

"She's always been like this, the wild child. I mean, I love her and Auntie Ellie but they never take anything seriously. If I had her phone number I'd phone her right now and tell her to get her act together. I have always tried to tell her about being responsible and honing her talent…" Rachel continues to rant and her bottle empties rather rapidly; Kurt just winks at me and keeps looking at the bedroom door suggestively. Santana waltzes over and snatches Rachel's phone looking at the picture appraisingly. Eventually she gives it back with an approving nod.

"God, girl hobbit. Who would've guessed that somewhere in your family, you were hiding a hottie like that? Plus, she's a 'rebel' is she? I wouldn't mind sampling her rebel ways if you gets me?"

* * *

Dominique was currently standing in front of a full length mirror, debating what she should wear to go out with Nate. _What do people even wear in New York? _She didn't have a clue what they were going to be doing since this was most definitely a 'last minute' thing arranged so that Dom could avoid an evening with Cynthia and her pod people. _I mean, you can never go wrong with black, but it's just so depressing. But raspberry silk, it's a bit out there and I don't wanna look as if I'm trying too hard. _Dom threw the potential outfits on her bed and huffed in frustration, let's just say that Dom wished that she didn't have some strange obsession with fashion; it would make her life a lot easier. Cynthia, who was answering E-mails from someone or other that worships the ground she walks on.

"Do you always take this long to get ready for a date?" Cynthia drops in while Dominique is holding a turquoise sweater dress up. She turns around to look at her roommate with complete bafflement. _Date? _The thought just made her laugh; seriously the concept of dating Nate was surreal, I mean she wasn't rash enough to say that romance wasn't an avenue that might be explored. _He's pretty hot in a diamond in the cowboy rough kind of way and I'm pretty hot too; we're young and in college, the breeding ground of experimentation. Anything could happen._

"First off this isn't a date, at all. Second of all, I take this long to get ready always." Cynthia gets up, rolling her eyes, as she heads over to start sorting through the pile of clothes that seems to never end and couldn't help but note that there really is such a thing as a girl having too many clothes. Cynthia couldn't comprehend how her roommate had managed to bring so many clothes with her. "So Dom, I'm guessing that this is why you were late today? I've got to admit that if I had this many clothes, I think I'd be late every so often." Dom stopped in her tracks, a little shocked by Cynthia's admission. _I don't think the apocalypse could make this girl late for anything. _But she appreciated it and gave Cynthia a hesitant smile and gestured towards the clothes.

"Yeah, it happens pretty often. Soooo, would you mind giving me a hand picking something?" _I can't believe I'm doing this; 'girl bonding' time with Cynthia is both daunting and bizarre. But if we're gonna be stuck together for a year, may as well try and be nice._ Cynthia was shocked at Dominique's request for help, she laughed; her flute like laughter echoed in the small dorm room. "Ok, well I think you should go with the pale pink silk number you were holding up earlier. It might seem a little OTT but pair it with natural make up and some flats, it'll be more casual. Maybe wear a blazer, black because I've heard masculine tailoring is back in."

Dom stood there open mouthed and not even bothering to conceal her shock, she wasn't dumb enough to think Cynthia was a fashion invalid. _I mean seriously that girl looks like she's been dressed by fashion Gods;_ the shocking thing is that it was literally just what she was thinking and she had come up with it practically on the spot. _Maybe there is something about her that doesn't make her a complete uptight dictator._ Cynthia smiled and handed her the clothes she'd picked up. "Go on, try it on and if you look anything less than amazing, I won't hesitate to tell you." Dom just smiled and awkwardly shuffled towards the bathroom, unsure of what to say she turned back to her roommate. "Errmm…thanks for this, you've probably saved me about an hour of procrastinating. Yeah"

"Well maybe this time you won't be late." Cynthia winked at Dom who blushed on the spot; but Dom knew it wasn't Cynthia's way of taking another shot at her. It was nothing more than a bit of girlish banter, which was nice even if it was totally unexpected. _This girl needs to make up her mind if she's a bitch or not; so far she's was a total douche when she called me out at the tour but now she's being nothing but 'nice' and whatever ulterior motives she might have aside. This is genuinely confusing and starting to give me a headache._

* * *

The red head just sighed as Dom went to get changed; she knew that she was a difficult person to get along with. She emulated every possible stereotype of people in the performing arts world; she was judgemental, cunning and more than a little self-centred at times. But she wasn't someone who would tear into no one for any apparent reason. She supposed that in her own way she was trying to help them be better; because everyone knows that in the capricious world of Show Business, if you wanted to get anywhere you didn't need to be good, you had to be the best. She started to paint her nails a sultry scarlet as she waited for her roommate to appear, humming the tune of 'Somewhere' from Sondheim's West Side story. _What is taking Dominique so long? It's only a dress after all._

"Dominique, what's happened? Does it look awful or something?" Cynthia stood up to knock on the bathroom door, Dominique seemed a little eccentric to say the least and she wouldn't of been surprised to find her roommate had fallen down the toilet or something equally as peculiar. "Two seconds, I can't get this bitch of a zipper up; I know it fits, I mean I tried it on like a week ago. This is gonna be a total disaster" Cynthia had to conceal a smirk at the panic in Dominique's voice, she sounded seconds away from either bursting into tears or tearing the bathroom apart; none of which would help with her little 'disaster'. "Hurricanes and world famine are disasters Dominique. Don't be a drama queen, get out here and we'll see what we can do."

Eventually the door is pulled open, revealing Dominique wearing a pout like a 5 year old who's been told it's time for bed; she stomps over to the mirror and sticks her stomach out. Cynthia just casts a critical gaze over the girl in front of her, apart from the zipper problem; she looks, and Cynthia knew that coming from her specifically that this is a compliment of the highest order, like a star. Radiating Jayne Mansfield glamour, the soft shade of the raspberry silk made her pale skin shimmer and the fit of the dress made her appear curvaceous and sophisticated. _Now that is how people I intend to spend time with should look, glamorous yet professional; stylish yet sleek._ If Cynthia didn't hold herself in such high esteem and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was just as, if not more, flawless than Dominique when she was dolled up; the green eyed monster may have made an appearance.

"I said I wouldn't lie and I won't, you look great. And you're wearing that dress, one way or another." Dominique rounded on her with a look on her face that said 'are you serious?' , she looked as if she were deliberating whether Cynthia was praising or ridiculing her and whether or not she should be offended. _I may have plans on being an actress, but I'm nowhere near as much of a Drama Queen as her. _"How can you say that? I know I don't look fat, and I've weighed myself; I haven't gained any weight whatsoever. And my boobs haven't grown I used your tape measure in the bathroom. But obviously something is wrong." Dominique just turned back to the mirror, looking at herself at all angles. _This girl is certainly being ridiculous, I mean she knows she looks good and she's still having a nervous breakdown._ "Maybe you're due on, you know: Pre-period bloating or something."

Dominique rounds on Cynthia, her expression aghast. _I never had Dominique down as being the conservative kind who recoiled at the mention of something like her own menstrual cycle. _Dominique just stared, the image of mock outrage as her mouth opened and closed without any words forming and that was all it took for Cynthia to lose her composure and burst out laughing. "This. Is. Not. Funny. And no, I came off like a week ago. The dress has obviously shrunk."

When Cynthia still continued to giggle, Dominique threw a pillow at her before joining in when she finally noticed she may have been being a tad over dramatic. _So, this is what it feels like to be friends with a girl who isn't jealous of you; it's 'pleasant'. I never thought I'd appreciate this 'girl talk'._ Eventually Cynthia stopped laughing, her face screwed up in concentration as she scrutinised every aspect of Dominique. That dress was going to be worn tonight, whether or not it liked it.

"Dominique, we're going to need a spoon; rubber gloves and some Vaseline." Her roommate looked shocked to say the least, confused as to how such an absurd list of things could help with the situation whatsoever but Cynthia gave her a pretty intimidating 'do as I say, or else' look. Any hesitation she may have had vanishes and Dominique was scampering around the room. She found everything and handed it to Cynthia who just continued to look her roommate up and down. "Is this going to hurt?" Dominique couldn't help but imagine what kind of torture Cynthia might inflict on her, she knew that Cynthia was doing nothing but trying to help her but you know first impressions do stick and she knew from their little chat earlier that her roommate was more than capable of being a grade A manipulative bitch.

Cynthia just laughed and then rolled her eyes. "No, it's not going to hurt…this time" and they both burst out laughing, but Dominique couldn't mask the sense of relief she felt at her roommates humour. A fact that, however malicious it may sound pleased Cynthia. _I might be starting to like you Dominique, but if at any moment you try and derail my stream train to success or get in the way at all. I won't have a problem obliterating you; and I can't guarantee that it won't hurt._

* * *

"Nate, right? Dom will be out in just a second." Nate just stared down at Dom's roommate, Cynthia or something that sounds just as conceited; he nods his head and puts his hands in his pockets. The awkward silence just stretches on as the boy from Louisville tries his hardest to pointedly ignore the red headed vixen that is leaning against the door frame. Cynthia trails her eyes appreciatively across Nate's narrow shoulders, his lean torso and his long legs; the boy shuffles awkwardly under Cynthia's unwavering gaze which brings a predatory smile to settle on her lips.

"Alright, I don't wanna be rude but what are you up to?" Nate wasn't one to skirt around issues, and frankly he was feeling a little freaked out. _I'm pretty sure she hasn't blinked, and not to sound like a dick but I don't trust this girl as far as I can throw her. _"Nothing much, just enjoying the view" at the way she practically purred Nate just raised an eyebrow; he looked past Cynthia silently willing Dominique to hurry the hell up so they can get out of here and escape.

After a few more torturous minutes of silence and Cynthia's ogling Dom strolls out the apartment; taking her sweet time of course, which after spending an afternoon shopping with the girl Nate knew was how she did most things. He could throttle her for leaving him out her with her creepy roommate. _At least she's here now though, maybe that will stop fire crotch leering at me like I'm a piece of bloody meat. _"You took your time didn't you Dom?" Nate gave her a look that said 'you're in trouble' but it didn't have the desired effect; instead Dom just smirks and sticks out her tongue.

"Well I had to make myself look presentable." She twirled on the spot and there was no question that she did look 'presentable', a lot classier than her earlier ensemble of denim shorts and tee shirt. Nate could see as soon as meeting her that Dom was pretty, maybe even beautiful, but the pink dress she was wearing made her look just 'wow'. _I think I'm gonna be beating men off of her tonight, it's when girls look like this when their Daddy's bring out the old shotgun. _Nate knew that he should probably compliment her, that's what men are supposed to do but he was more concerned with getting as far away from Cynthia as humanly possible. "Do you wanna get going then?"

Dom just nods her head, before turning to her roommate. "Well, I'm off then. I don't know when I'll be back though, so have a good night tonight and thanks for all the help; I swear I could've literally died." Nate's eyes almost bugged out of his head when they hugged; and he knows enough about girls to know this wasn't an 'I'm hugging you because it's expected but I think you're a total bitch', it was an actual genuine hug. "Well I'd better start getting ready, I've got to meet everyone in a couple of hours and unlike you; I haven't got someone to help with any disasters. Bye, and you too Nate. Don't do anything I wouldn't"

Before she closes the door, she winks at Dom who just rolls her eyes and throws a flirtatious look in Nate's direction; he can't even cringe in repulsion as the door closes, he's still shell-shocked by what he just saw. Dom walks down the corridor, before turning back with a grin on her face. "Are you coming or what? And you might wanna close your mouth, it makes you look proper gormless" Nate literally smacks himself back into reality.

They emerge outside the dorm building; Dom turns to look at Nate and puts her hands on her hips. "So, did you take a vow of silence or something? You haven't said a word and it's starting to freak me out. You look like you've seen someone punch a kitten in the face." He couldn't help but chuckle at her 'eloquence'. _Well nobody could ever say she didn't have a way with words. _But he was still stumped by the apparent change in 'dynamic' between Dom and Cynthia, so he settled on saying what he was going to say before he was plotting 'Operation Escape' "Umm… you look really nice." He almost died from embarrassment right there, but Dominique just stuck out her bottom lip and punched him in the arm lightly.

"Don't worry, this is not a date of any sorts; you don't have to worry about complimenting me, I'm sure I'll get enough of them while we're out" She winked, and he felt at ease again; just thinking about the way Cynthia was just staring at him was enough to make him feel a little 'off'. "But thanks anyway, I suppose you look pretty 'nice' yourself. I was expecting you to be wearing the cowboy boots." He grinned, he had made a little bit of an effort than he usually would because he'd seen the clothes she was buying today and it was obvious that the trusted baggy jeans and checked shirt wouldn't make the cut.

Instead he'd put on the one pair of black skinny jeans he owned, and a fitted white shirt; Dom was staring openly and noted that the change was pretty dramatic. Gone was the laid back country bumpkin, although the look was still pretty casual Nate somehow seemed more refined. He looked like he belonged in New noticed Dom staring but it wasn't like Cynthia; he wasn't worried that she'd pounce on him and rip his clothes off. In fact, Nate himself had been shocked by how different he looked just by changing his clothes. After a few seconds though Nate decided it was time to get going, just standing there randomly was drawing quite a few curious looks. "Well I knew I had to look my best for a night out with you, but don't worry the cowboy boots and flannel shirts will be back soon enough."

Dominique looked up with a surprisingly serious look on her face. "It suits you, I think I'm gonna have to give you a 'country to city' makeover." She suddenly smiled mischievously, Nate took hold of her arm and they started walking down the street. "The day you give me a makeover, is the day that we have an alien as president and pigs fly. I like my cowboy boots." _But I do admit it might be nice to get a few new things; for special occasions and stuff._

* * *

Somehow they'd ended up back at Times Square, but this time they'd been a bit more urbane in their food choices; choosing The Olive Garden over a street cart. They'd decided that their attire was a little too erudite to be munching on a hot dog on the corner of a street. The food was divine; Dom learned that Nate was a vegetarian. _I thought southerners were constantly meant to be chowing down on Buffalo wings and racks of ribs. Well I suppose I could tell that Nate was an oddity from square one._ And Nate was shocked to see that she didn't adhere to any stereotypes of women eating 'light' as she wolfed down four courses without even breaking a sweat.

"Now that was bloody amazing, Nate. We're coming back as soon as possible." Nate just laughed, it was good to see a girl who appreciated food; he got pretty bored of the girls who'd constantly be worrying about eating this. "It tastes like every other Olive Garden I've been to if we're being honest. I suppose it could be the 'New York' that makes it taste so much better." Nate's sarcasm earned him a glare and a quick kick in the shins under the table; when he winced Dominique just gave him a smile so sickly sweet that he could feel himself getting a cavity.

"I actually wouldn't know I've never been to an Olive Garden; my mom has some vendetta against chain restaurants. So yeah, you've just taken my OG virginity. How does it feel?" The boy couldn't believe what he was hearing, not eating at the Olive Garden at some point is like never having a history teacher who made you want to shoot yourself; practically impossible. _He looks like I've just told him that chimpanzees have invaded the White House. _ Dominique giggled at his confusion and then placed her card on the table to pay for the bill, this gave Nate a shove right back into reality. "Hey, I'm the man; I should be paying for this."

Nate felt like banging his head against the table when he realised how misogynistic that sounded, but he was a southern lad and was taught to pay for meals when he was out with a girl; whether or not it was in a romantic way. He reached into his jacket to get his own credit card but faltered when he saw the way Dominique was glaring. He placed both hands on the table slowly, causing Dominique to just roll her eyes; which is something she seemed to do a lot of. _Men seriously need to learn that this isn't the 18__th__ Century; we women are more than capable of paying our way._

"I'm paying, but don't worry. You can pay for the drinks and taxi fare; plus this isn't a date, friends take it in turns to pay. Plus, it's my Dad's money anyway." The way she said it was her Dad's money definitely implied there was more to the story, and Nate remembered her mentioning her parents were divorced but he was tactful enough to notice that this probably wasn't the best time to ask for that story. Eventually they paid the bill and were on their way, once they were outdoors the Dominique shivered; the blazer she was wearing was doing nothing to keep out the cold so Nate slid his leather jacket off and offered it to her. She just shook her head, but gave him a thankful smile. "That's very chivalrous of you, but I'll be fine. I just need a moment to adjust because it was so warm in there. So where are we off to now?"

Nate just grinned and offered her his arm, she took it and they were off down the road. "My roommate told me about a place where the students like to go and chill, thought we'd have a look in and see what it's like. All we gotta do is just get a taxi, which should be fun." Dom laughed, they'd both seen all the films that always showed how it was practically impossible to get a taxi in New York; thankfully good fortune must have been smiling down on them because they got a taxi in a matter of mere minutes. _I always knew that people were exaggerating when they said how hard it is to get a cab in the Big Apple. _They jumped in the back and Nate gave the driver the address and they were on their way.

"So Nate, what's your roomie like?" Dom took a second to try and imagine what Nate's room would look like, probably extremely basic but littered with books. _He was in the Scholastic Decathlon team in High School after all. _And if the cowboy boots were anything to go by, maybe some posters of some obscure country artists. Nate just shrugged his shoulders. "He's called Trent, he seems alright; a bit enthusiastic about being in New York but I've noticed everyone is. I think you'd like him, he's sweet and got a bit of a baby face which I know you girls love to fawn over." Dom just shoved him, but she couldn't deny that she loved to 'mother' people and if they had a baby face it just made it that much easier.

"He sounds incredibly sweet, giving you advice of where to go even though you're a complete idiot. I must send him flowers to apologise for having to deal with you for a whole year." Nate just snorted before shoving his friend. "Ha, if you're getting him flowers; I'll have to buy you the Amazon Rainforest for having to deal with the she-devil." Dom just burst out laughing, and patted Nate on the shoulder; he never really held back with his words. "Ok, I'll admit it. She does seem like a total bitch and if you fucked with her education she would probably castrate you and make you eat your own balls. But I think she's just obsessed with the education aspect, she was pretty nice today after she had an Alpha-bitch moment. I know she'll probably screw me over at some point and reveal herself to be the 'she-devil' but I'm gonna enjoy the peace while I can. Plus she taught me a few nifty tricks involving rubber gloves and Vaseline."

Nate practically blanched at the visual, and however twisted it sounds he could imagine Cynthia doing something like that; and he was very attached to his family jewels. He still found it hard to believe that the red head could be nice in any way shape or form but he trusted Dom to look after herself and was thankful she had her head screwed on and knew to be suspicious. "Good, just remember to keep an eye on her she's a crafty cow I'll tell you that now. But if she tries anything I'll have your back, but until then I'm still gonna try and avoid her like the plague."

Dom nodded and held up her 3 middle fingers on her right hand and placed her left hand on her chest, she just sighed when Nate just stared with a clueless expression on his face. "Scouts honour, I'll have eyes in the back of my head. I might be a lot of things but I'm not stupid, but I wouldn't count on being able to avoid her like the plague. I mean she's got her eye on you, and from what I heard she like to 'appreciate the view'" Nate's jaw hit the floor and he shoved Dom impishly; he couldn't believe she watched the whole 'Cynthia is a pervert' and left him. "You…yo?" Nate couldn't even form words; Dom just covered her hand with her mouth and widened her eyes in faux shock. The cab pulled up and Nate handed the fare over while still staring at Dom in disbelief. "And that's what you get for leaving me on my own when she first showed up" And on that note Dom slid out of the taxi leaving a befuddled Nate in the cab.

Dom was standing outside the bar which sounded pretty rowdy, voices were drifting out as the doors opened and closed. She stared at the sign above the door before turning to Nate with an incredulous look on her face. "We're going to a karaoke bar? A karaoke bar called Call Backs?" _I've never heard such a ridiculous name, it's just too cliché to be real. _Nate just stood there and shrugged his shoulders. "I thought it'd be fun, it's always funny to see people make fools of themselves on Karaoke and from what I've heard it's cheap and got an alright atmosphere." Dom had to admit that was a good pitch, and she was a bit of a karaoke veteran. "You've sold me on it, let's go. And remember the first round is on you." Nate chuckled and nodded his head before going to the door. The person singing had changed, and Dom just froze; she knew that voice, she'd heard that voice far too often for her own liking because the owner loved the sound of her own voice. Nate looked at his friend with concern. "You alright? Looks like you've seen the ghost of Christmas blooming past." Dom just smiled and shook her head. "No, I'm absolutely fine." _Maybe I should warn him that he's about to meet the family; one particular family member who makes Cynthia look like a pussycat._

* * *

_**Please leave a review…**_

_**It'd be awesome! :D**_

_**-Ornella **_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hey, well a lot of people are reading the story and although there aren't any reviews… I am actually enjoying writing at the moment so I thought: ANOTHER CHAPTER! And kind of the end of dallying with Dominique, although I love her and she will remain a big part of this story: OC's always help show things in a new light IMO…**_

* * *

**Rachel Berry**

Call Backs is the training ground for anyone who is anyone who ever intends of reigning as Broadway royalty; while it may lack the proscenium arched stage, the red velvet curtains, the glare of stage lighting and the thousands of adoring fans. It does have a certain charm, and the fact that a majority of the clientele are future ambassadors for the performing arts does lend a sense of 'professional credibility' to all given feedback.

For my first performance of the night I had played it relatively safe and gone with 'Don't Rain on My Parade' and as expected the applause was plentiful, the abundance of compliments and general praise was enough to cement my confidence as one of the better performers in this generation of future stars; This is mainly thanks to extensive training and my tenacity to ensure my star always burns at its brightest.

Now however someone with less talent than me is singing; and although over time I have managed to curb my habit of delivering 'constructive' criticism, it's impossible not to catalogue the faults of this nameless girl's performance of Mariah Carey's 'Hero'. It lacks conviction, the girl is unable to project emotionally and this prevents her from being able to convey the riveting subtext of this Diva classic.

I, for example, would take time to familiarise myself with the lyrics and research the artistic intentions of the song as well as the context; but the fact of the matter is, not many people possess my passion or commitment. I think that belies the true reason for my inevitable success here in New York, my perseverance and willing to surpass the expectations.

"Kurt, you can just tell this girl is under rehearsed. Not only in relation to the songs context, but it just doesn't suit her voice. The higher notes are sounding very breathy and affecting her diction; as an alto she shouldn't be singing songs like this. Songs like this are more suited to a vocal range such as my own, as a dramatic mezzo soprano I know that…" I'm shut up by Santana shoving me, rather forcefully. However much myself and Santana have bonded in the last few years, over the scandals and other 'drama' we've endured; it still comes as a surprise when she reverts to her former ways, resorting to violence or as she refers to it 'getting her Lima Heights on'.

I try to express my disapproval through a mere glance, but as always my flatmate just brushes it off with a shrug of her shoulders. I cross my arms and just look in another direction, she should know by now that my expertise in the realm of performance is something that should be listened to not brushed under the carpet like some of her more nefarious stories.

"Oh Man Hands, what's crawled up your ass and died? Yeah, the girl sucks and all that jazz but if I have to keep listening to your commentary for every performance I will have to go all Lima Heights on your ass. I mean, this place in general makes me want to drown myself in Unicorn piss; it's like Elton John and Eli Roth's raging homosexuality has fused together and been locked in a box with some cheesy musical dust to top off the whole monstrosity, gets me?" Santana just sat back in her chair after another of her outbursts; I look to Blaine who is watching the stage with polite disinterest, he lacks the brutal honesty when it comes to assessing his peers although his furtive glances back at Kurt may be a way of voicing his disappointment at the vocal travesty we're currently enduring.

I look towards my gay, Kurt, knowing he'll be on a similar wavelength as myself since we're both destined for Broadway but what I see is far from his critical gaze trained on the girl singing. It's appalling, I just look at how both of his hands are below the table and can only imagine what immoral things my flatmates may be up to. Santana looks over too and grins when she sees Blaine squirm in his seat as Kurt looks at him lovingly, which is something I'm not opposed to in general.

I am an ambassador for homosexuality and there is nothing more I despise than hatred born of ignorance, which is one of the reason people tend to dislike me; they cannot understand my talent; but whatever Kurt and Blaine are up to now is not okay with me. Santana just mouths 'wanky' and I almost bang my head against the table in frustration, this girl has no shame as she just watches the couple with mild interest.

"No Santana, this is not 'wanky' in the least. It is very disrespectful on Kurt and Blaine's behalf." My little outburst garners attention from all around us; Blaine and Kurt just look at me bewildered. I fix them with a stare that lets them know that I'm not pleased with their 'antics'; Santana just takes a swig from my drink and watches as what I said sinks in; Blaine just chuckles as Kurt jumps away from him and places both of his hands flat against the table.

He looks horrified as his skin begins to transform into a violent shade of puce, Kurt stutters for a few seconds before glaring at me. Which is something I'll never be able to fathom; he shouldn't be angry at me when I was just pointing out how wholly inappropriate it is to perform sexual acts in public. He should thank me rather than be mad, I can only imagine how embarrassing this whole scenario would be if it were one of the other patrons who caught Kurt's hand travelling below the equator of Blaine's waistband.

"Are you happy now Rachel? And before you make an incongruous remark Santana, nothing was happening. I'm surprised Rachel, I thought you would've known that I would never be 'in the mood' to engage in anything intimate while someone is on stage butchering a classic. I may have had a couple of drinks, but I haven't lost my mind." I almost faint from relief, I should've know trusted my gut instinct which was that my gay was being as overly critical as myself. I have the decency to look embarrassed while Santana just looks disappointed and mutters something like 'spanking the monkey' which I'm sure has a bucketful of lewd connotations. Kurt just rolls his eyes before smiling.

"So when are you performing next Rachel, I'm sure you've got all of us signed up about thirty times." He's right, I shouldn't be dilly dallying about whatever Kurt and Blaine may have been up to when I have much more important things to be worrying about such as my upcoming performances. In fact, everyone should be preparing. I run through a quick vocal scale and find Santana's face screwed up as she mouths 'is she serious?' Blaine just continues to nurse his virgin cocktail and Kurt is chewing on his lip. They don't understand, well Kurt does but he is obviously being lazy this evening, how much one must prepare before a public performance. I just dismiss myself from the table.

"If my calculations are correct, I should be up soon and I need a glass of water because there is no way in Broadway that Miss Rachel Barbara Berry won't be hitting that E above top C. So, while you sit here unprepared for the stage, I'll be lubricating my vocal chords. I encourage you to do the same, you wouldn't want to mess up and end up singing flat now would you?" Emulating my Diva ancestors in all but blood I flounced away from the table, looking back to see Santana just rolling her eyes while Blaine and Kurt are sharing a chaste kiss. Well, if they somehow mess up their performances they can't blame me; I've tried to help and if they decide to ignore that help it's on their own heads.

I continue to rant inside my head; inner monologues are nothing if not cathartic but unfortunately it affects my ability to focus on reality and that is what sends me crashing into someone. I stumble backwards but I'm spared the humiliation of falling down when a hand shoots out and grabs me; I look up to see a tall man with sea green eyes staring down at me, and the first thing I notice is that he's very attractive.

I look at him through my eyelashes and give him a coy smile, ignoring that Santana says it makes my nose seems as though it's spreading across my face. Kurt has been telling me for months that it is time to 'get back on the horse and to wade in the murky waters of dating' and this boy with the strawberry blonde hair and cheeky grin could definitely be the one, especially since we've just had our 'cute meet'.

"I'm so sorry; I wasn't looking where I was going. I'm Rachel Barbara Berry by the way." He looks a little taken aback and runs his hand through his hair; I try and catch my best gay's eye, when I do I widen my eyes. Kurt just looks over, not as discretely as he could have, before giving me an approving nod of his head. He gestures flipping my hair, so I toss my hair over my shoulder and twirl it around my finger. The boy just clears his throat.

"Nice to meet you, Rachel. I'm Nate, ummm… how are you?" I draw myself up to my full height. Think, a flirty response is needed. Something that says I am bold, I am a strong female who is empowered and attractive. Ha, WWBD? As always is the perfect solution; whenever I can't think of the best thing to do I always resort to my favourite philosophy: What would Barbara do? Or in this particular moment, say?

"I'm very good thank you, although by the looks of it tonight seems to be getting better and better." I look him up and down suggestively, I've never been as outright sassy as Santana or as witty as Kurt but I am glad to say that living in New York for three years has certainly helped when it comes to talking to boys. No longer am I the awkward girl hiding behind woollen sweaters, now I am a Diva who is in control of her own life and able to flirt when the time is right. Nate just smiles, probably intimidated by my outright flirting which is understandable; I place my hand on his forearm. A nonverbal gesture of comfort, see Acting 101 definitely has applications to real life despite whatever Santana says.

"But enough about me, tell me about yourself." Nate clears his throat and looks down at my hand; I give his arm a reassuring squeeze. Usually I would find his nervousness annoying, as someone who lacks self-confidence would never be able to appreciate my complex understanding of myself, but seeing him look around the room is endearing and knowing that I'm the cause is flattering. I remember to stick out my breasts and continue to flip my hair like Kurt had said, well showed me but I take pride that our girl/gay relationship is strong enough that we can communicate without having to use words.

"Umm.. I'm a freshman at Tisch, so I'm just getting to know New York." I nod along sympathetically, oh how lost must he feel? Stuck in New York, most likely without any friends; in fact, I had been in this very position 3 years ago until Kurt had made the courageous decision to pursue our dream of living in New York together; Santana appeared unannounced not too long afterwards and then the following year Blaine came to join our dysfunctional family.

"Oh don't worry about that. I'm sure I could show you all that New York has to offer, I'm a junior at NYADA and I've…" I'm cut off when I see my dearest cousin walking through the crowd; unfortunately, she hasn't noticed me and I realise that this is fate. I know that I need to talk to Dominique about her blatant disregard for social etiquette; I mean skipping out on your first day of college is not something you should be doing. I hold up my finger to tell Nate I'll be back in a second. I'm pretty sure my jaw hits the floor when she waltzes over without a care in the world and begins to address my newest acquaintance.

"Nate, where the Hell have you been? My mouth is dryer that the Sahara desert." Oh so it seems that Nate and my cousin are already conversant. Dominique doesn't seem to notice me at first while she gets a drink from Nate; I clear my throat and she turns to look at me, the teasing grin she wore seconds ago vanishes as her eyes fill with dread and her shoulders slump in defeat.

* * *

Nate just stares at Dom, she's looking at the bubbly brunette he'd met moments ago and then something clicked in his brain; there's obviously something between these two girls who are just staring at one another. He looks between the two and can't spot any resemblances apart from the look of disbelief on both of their faces, well shock for the Rachel girl and Dominique just looks as though she's been told she is on death row. Eventually Dom brushes down her pink dress and forces a smile. "Rachel, it's great to see you."

There isn't a second before the brunette jumps straight in, gone are the flirting smiles and hair flipping. The Rachel girl looks like a mother who's about to lecture her teenage daughter into an early grave. "Dominique Cecelia Goodacre, I cannot believe that you were skipping college. It was your first day and I am appalled, I've been trying to contact Aunt Ellie. Don't you realise that your careless actions could reflect on me too?"

While Nate was at least able to ascertain that they were related somehow, he was more than a little shocked to see Dominique just standing there and taking the lecture; he didn't peg her as someone who'd just sit down and take something like this. But by the set of her jaw, she must've been expecting it; he caught her eye and she just rolled her eyes, it must be a regular occurrence. Dom waited for the brunette to calm down for a few seconds, barely concealing a sigh of exasperation at the less than pleasant greeting she'd gotten from her elder cousin.

"No offence Rach, but you do realise that I don't go to NYADA?" Rachel just faltered for one second before shaking her head; Dom just rubbed her eyes more than ready for whatever Rachel would come back with. "Yes, but the performing communities across New York are exceptionally close knit and if you become known as unreliable, with us being family it could reflect on me and become potentially hazardous to my future career."

Nate just stood there, nodding along with the music as he watched the girls argue back and forth; Rachel was practically shaking with fury or stress while Dom just looked tired. "You know Rachel, we could always pretend to not be related, and I could definitely manage that." Dom threw a sarcastic grin at Rachel who seemed to be getting more frustrated by the second; Nate didn't need to be able to tell the future to know that this particular conversation wasn't destined for a happy ending. In fact, a more likely ending by the looks of things were the two girls choking one another.

Rachel just threw her hands up. "See, how on Earth do you expect to grow as an artist if you're being so lasses faire about everything? New York may be the city of dreams, but that doesn't mean your dreams are going to come true. It takes hard work, Dominique, but you just want to ignore it all and not admit that you're in the wrong." Nate is on the verge of breaking up this little skirmish when he notices Dominique bristle, but she sends him a glare and he decides it's probably best not to get caught between these two; it would definitely get messy.

"Pretty rich coming from you, I mean a lot of people would say that it is pretty damn wrong that you just decide to jump down a member of your family's throat, a family member that you haven't seen in about a year before even bothering to greet them." Rachel recoils as if she's been slapped and takes a step closer to Dominique, they're toe to toe; Nate notices that while one is tall and blonde and the other is a short brunette their similarities are becoming more and more apparent. Both girls are unbelievably stubborn as they stare one another down, after a few seconds Rachel seems to have found her tongue again.

"Well actually, we both went on that Summer Smash Cruise with my dad's and your mom about 8 months ago." Even Nate could tell that Rachel was being a tad preposterous but she just folded her arms down; similarity 2, they both can't admit to be being wrong. Dominique just laughs at her cousins lousy come back, looking over at Nate with an expression that clearly read 'Please tell me this girl is not being serious?' Nate looked at Rachel and from the set of her jaw it was pretty obvious that she was being deadly serious.

"Actually Rachel, I think the convention of say 'hey' before giving someone the Spanish Inquisition is kind of mandatory every time you see them. But hey I might be wrong." While Dominique's sarcasm wasn't lost on Nate who had to cover his mouth to hide his laughter, something told him that Rachel wouldn't appreciate it. The elder cousin however was oblivious and remained indignant. "Well, I am concerned about how your careless actions could affect me."

Dom just looked shocked at how self-obsessed Rachel was, not that she hadn't always know her cousin was prone to making everything about her in some small way; their little 'chat' was drawing quite a crowd and Nate was just shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot and looking at the exit longingly. Dom knocks back her drink and slams the glass down on the table. "Rachel you are genuinely crazy, I guarantee you that my actions are not gonna affect you in the slightest but it is nice to know that you're so concerned about me. Honestly I am flattered."

Rachel just shakes her head, exasperated at her cousin's attitude. She should've known Dominique wouldn't have been able to be mature about this situation, she's always been a bit of a Drama Queen. "Of course I am concerned Dommie, but this isn't the Dom show." Dominique just laughs and throws her arms wide, could her cousin get any more delusional if she tried? There it is folks, Rachel Berry displaying why she is unquestionably the most self-obsessed person on the planet.

"Are you fricking kidding me?" Nate was shocked into action, he could tell that his blonde friend was getting a little worked up and he thought it best to break it up before anything could happen cause it seemed both of these girls had pretty fiery tempers by the looks of things. Before her could interfere though, both girls turned to fix him with an identical glare that told him if he want to remain attached to his testicles it's best to stay quiet. He just ordered another drink, Dominique just gestured at her friend.

"Oh Nate, in case you were wondering this is my wonderful cousin Rachel. Rachel, this is my friend…" "Nate I already know, we've already had the pleasure of meeting. But I think the more pressing concern is your truancy." Nate had to give Rachel a bit of respect; she was like a one woman wrecking ball that didn't lose focus. Seems Dom's little 'diversion tactics' she's been putting to use don't work with her cousin. Dom rubbed her temples and just stared at Rachel as if she'd grown an extra head. "Truancy? God, you are seriously making a mountain out of a bloody molehill. I just went shopping."

Rachel just rolled her eyes, she might not have understood Dom's attempts at sarcasm but she was radiating it now. "Oh I'd forgotten that shopping, which can be done any time is so much more important than your education." It was plain to see Dominique was seething and Nate would try and break it up but one thing he's learnt is that when families are having it out, it's best to just not get involved.

"No, but it is more important than a useless tour." Nate felt bad for Dom, she'd admitted earlier that she thought she was in the wrong when they'd skipped out on the tour and Rachel was starting to sound more and more logical; it'd be so much easier if Dom could swallow her pride, Nate had only known her for a day but he knew that whether or not she was backed in to a corner she wouldn't back down.

"A tour that would have answered any questions that you could have gad, but rather than acting like an adult and exploiting that. You decide to go running around town like some educational delinquent." Nate just handed Dom a drink, she looked at him and he could see she was losing her cool. He gave her an encouraging grin and she mouthed 'thanks'. Dom was planning what to say when she was hit by a stray thought. "Actually, how the Hell did you find out about that anyway?" Nate had to admit, he'd been thinking it for a while and having seen Rachel laying in to Dom he was kind of worried that the dorms might be bugged or something.

"Blaine, the one responsible for the tour; he is my flatmate and out of the goodness of his heart he decided to come in to try and ease the freshmen into college education. When I told him about you, he informed me that you performed a disappearing act." Dominique rolled her eyes, of course Rachel lived with the 'sex on legs but still a major douche' tour guide; that was just her bloody luck. Dom folds her arms and just cuts her eyes at her cousin. "Well he is such a pompous prat anyway." She knew it was pretty petty, Nate knew it was pretty petty but Rachel looked as though she were about to explode.

"You can't say things like that." The blonde girl just sneered at her cousin, refusing to back down even though she knew that she was in the wrong. "I bloody well can if they make me look and feel like a twat in front of everyone." Rachel practically growled; this simmering pot of familial rage was about to reach its boiling point and Nate decided it was time to intervene even if it would probably result in him getting a black eye; but before he had to risk life and limb by suggesting they sit down a voice boomed out. "Will Miss Rachel Berry please make her way onstage."

Nate breathed a sigh of relief as Rachel turned to walk away; Dominique actually looked to the skies thankfully, the two friends looked at each other and then the brunette's voice drifted back. "We will be continuing this discussion later, me and my friends will come and find you." Nobody questioned that this was definitely no threat but a promise; Rachel swans away without looking back. The freshmen just look at one another and Dominique rolls her eyes before slumping onto a bar stool and ordering another drink. She bangs her head against the table, cuing Nate to laugh at her overly dramatic antics.

* * *

**Dominique Goodacre.**

As always, a conversation with my dearest cousin has done nothing but give me a banging headache and filled me the insane desire to punch someone or jump under a bus. I take a sip of my virgin cosmo and look at Nate; judging by the massive grin he's wearing he seems to have found the whole thing rather amusing. Well that's good for him, but I on the other hand now have to deal with Adolfa Berry; who I know is somehow going to ruin my life in New York with her self-obsessed absurdity. Nate just throws his arm around me, I'd shrug it off but I appreciate knowing that someone is in my corner when it comes to dealing with my psychotic cousin.

"Well, she's definitely a character isn't she?" Understatement of the century. The girl is a one woman nightmare, Nate chuckles as I just stare at him radiating disbelief from every pore. Character? The girl has so much 'character' she is the poster child of multi personality disorder. "Tell me about it, I've had to put up with her and her crazy ass antics for bloody years. But, you've met the family." Nate chuckles at my lame attempt at humour. I just can't seem to find anything funny when I know I'm going to have to deal with Rachel later, it's like a vacuum for anything remotely positive.

I can tell Nate's picked up on my abrupt change of mood; he looks around and nudges me. I glimpse to see he's wearing a particular grin, the same mischievous glint in his eye as when he coerced me into a day of shopping and as Rachel would say 'neglecting my educational requirements'. I just raise my eyebrow, prompting him to elaborate on whatever his face is saying; rather than answering he throws a conspiratorial wink in my direction and waves over towards the far end of the bar. I look over and see a fire exit. "So, what do you say Delinquent Dommie? Wanna get out of here?"

I'll admit the idea was tempting, more than tempting: It was mouth wateringly seductive. Nate just chuckles as he sees me staring at the exit longingly, but however appealing it sounded it was pretty impractical; Rachel knew I was in New York and I know that if I ran now, she would somehow find me later. One thing I knew about my cousin is that if she puts her mind to something, she'll never give up on her one woman rampage.

"Nah, it's pointless. She'd find me and the lecture will be ten times worse so I'd rather face the firing squad sooner than later." Nate just shrugged his shoulders and turned his focus to the stage where Rachel was now holding the microphone like a mother would hold their first born child; she lived to perform and however much she irks me at times I can hold my hands up and admit that performing is what she loves and what she was born to do. The music swells and I sit back to simply watch, knowing Rachel will be as breath taking as always.

**_'I don't know why I'm frightened_**  
**_I know my way around here_**  
**_The cardboard trees, the painted seas, the sound here..._**  
**_Yes, a world to rediscover_**  
**_But I 'm not in any hurry_**  
**_And I need a moment_**

**_The whispered conversations in overcrowded hallways_**  
**_The atmosphere as thrilling here as always_**  
**_Feel the early morning madness_**  
**_Feel the magic in the making_**  
**_Why, everything's as if we never said goodbye_**

**_I've spent so many mornings just trying to resist you_**  
**_I'm trembling now, you can't know how I've missed you_**  
**_Missed the fairy tale adventure_**  
**_In this ever spinning playground_**  
**_We were young together_**

**_I'm coming out of make-up_**  
**_The lights already burning_**  
**_Not long until the cameras will start turning..._**  
**_And the early morning madness_**  
**_And the magic in the making_**  
**_Yes, everything's as if we never said goodbye_**

**_I don't want to be alone_**  
**_That's all in the past_**  
**_This world's waited long enough_**  
**_I've come home at last!_**

**_And this time will be bigger_**  
**_And brighter than we knew it_**  
**_So watch me fly, we all know I can do it..._**  
**_Could I stop my hand from shaking?_**  
**_Has there ever been a moment_**  
**_With so much to live for?_**

**_The whispered conversations in overcrowded hallways_**  
**_So much to say not just today but always..._**  
**_We'll have early morning madness_**  
**_We'll have magic in the making_**  
**_Yes, everything's as if we never said goodbye_**  
**_Yes, everything's as if we never said goodbye..._**  
**_We taught the world new ways to dream!'_**

And as I predicted, the performance was flawless; seeing Rachel onstage isn't like seeing the annoying cousin who has plagued my existence since we were children, she is a star as soon as she starts to sing although I'd never say it to her face. Her ego is big enough without showering her with praise, but I find myself clapping my hands like everyone else; I turn to look at Nate who is just staring at Rachel with his mouth hanging open, I just grin as he stares at her in absolute bewilderment.

"Wow, she is bloody amazing" I shrug my shoulders, she was but I can't supress the tiny tingle of jealousy at the blatant awe in his eyes; I know jealousy is stupid, in fact Nate reminds me of the oaf Finn I met years ago when we visited Uncle LeRoy and Hiram, and every boyfriend Rachel had somehow coerced into a relationship with her since. His laid back attitude would probably balance out her over-flamboyance and downright Diva-ish behaviour, but I was determined to avoid Rachel when I got here, well for a few months at least and something about how my only 'friend' in New York gazing at her in wonderment pisses me off.

"Yeah, no doubt she's amazing but unfortunately her ego is even bigger than her talent most of the time. Believe me, it gets boring pretty quickly." A bit of a bitchy thing to say on my behalf but hey, I don't want Rachel latching onto my friends like a leech and I know that is definitely something she would do in her crazed crusade to try and control my life. Rachel is practically glowing as she makes her way over to her friends who are clapping, apart from the dark haired girl who looks as though she is considering some sort of multiple homicide; random people are stopping her to congratulate her I guess.

That's it, I mean this is not gonna be a place I want to spend time if it's full of complete idiots who are more than happy to walk around with their lips attached to my cousin's ass. Eventually Rachel manages to escape from the legions of 'adoring fans', the very sentiment makes me swallow back a mouthful of bile, and manages to find herself at the table with her friends.

They're obviously having a chat but when I see all of their eyes flicker in mine and Nate's direction it triggers something inside of me; something like the fight or flight response and however determined I was to endure the fearsome wrath of my cousin, that courage is now gone with the wind and nothing sounds better than running away like a dog with my tail between my legs. Yep, I'm a coward but right in this moment, I couldn't give a flying donkey.

"Right, drink up. We're gonna escape." I nudge Nate and he is just looking around nonplussed; honestly, he was all up for doing a runner about five minutes ago and now he's staring at me like I've lost the plot. There's no time for words so I just glare at him; there was obviously something in my eyes that shocked him into action because he knocks his drink back straight away and is on his feet ready to go.

I can practically hear the Mission Impossible theme music as we're pushing our way through the crowd, it's literally like I'm the dumb blonde in a horror movie who keeps looking back while I'm being chased by someone on a murderous rampage. I can see the exit, and to coincide with every other cliché I seem to be living at the moment, I can hear a chorus of angels singing hallelujah.

"Dominique" I feel my hope of escape deflating like a punctured balloon, back to the horror movie moment; the one inevitable thing is that the blonde one is caught and mutilated. This is seriously a screw my life moment, I look at Nate and don't see my horror mirrored in his eyes; instead he looks seconds away from bursting into laughter. Once again, I want to reiterate that however nice he seems underneath the cheeky grins and sarcastic wit he is still an absolute douche.

Deep calming breathes, I might not be able to escape but I may as well try and remain dignified. I turn around after slapping on my fakest smile; despite being blonde I am a smart cookie since I have a backup plan. And the genius plan? Flattery, if you want to appease Rachel and escape from her grasp than all you have to do is stroke her already enlarged ego. I know this from experience.

"You were great Rachel." It is true, so I'm not lying but the reaction isn't what I expected; a thankful smile? What happened to the 40 minute monologue, the lecture about vocal training and the correct diet of a performer? Please Lord above, do not have let Rachel gotten all humble; if she's modest as well as a complete control freak then I may as well throw myself under a bus.

"Thanks, it was a little warm up really but I've been singing it for years. Let me introduce my friends; you already know Blaine, this is Kurt and this is Santana. We all live together in Bushwick." Okay, I didn't need your life story. Now I'm simply grasping at straws in my attempt to escape, which I can literally feel slipping through my fingers.

Kurt I'm guessing is the one with the startling blue eyes and Santana is the Latina girl. I'm seeing her giving me the up and down look which says she's admiring a lot more than my shoes; and I return the favour noticing she has got a killer body, I mean if I was swinging on that particular branch I would tap that. The conversation falls into an awkward silence while all of our eyes are darting around until Santana steps between us all with a devilish smirk fixed in place.

"Oh man hands, the difference is amazing. A yentil midget and the hot blonde." I duck my head at the compliment, smiling as I turn to look at Nate who is just looking completely nonplussed and more than likely appreciating the 'view'. I feel a tad bad for Rachel who bristles at the compliment; resentment aside I think the evident death of her fascination with animal print sweaters has done wonders for her image. I mean, if I didn't fear remaining in her presence for longer than 20 minutes I'd definitely be lending that green body-con skirt; it would look phenomenal with my cream chiffon blouse.

"I might not the chance to introduce myself earlier, the name's Blaine." The tosspot tour guide decides to speak up, dreamy eyes and everything be damned I'm still pissed off. Oh great, I can literally feel my brain detaching itself from my vocal chords; I chance a glance at Nate and see him shaking the douche's hand. Traitor.

"I know who you are actually, you kinda introduced yourself this morning when you decided to call me out in front of my whole class. Thanks for that by the way." Oh well, sarcasm never fails in situations like this; the effect is instantaneous, the Blaine boy looks taken aback. Maybe he thought that as a blonde I wouldn't be able to remember how much of a complete moose he made of me earlier; Rachel's jaw is grazing the flaw, looking nothing short of completely appalled. The Santana girl catches me eye and gives me a quick wink and the boy with the blue eyes is glaring at me so hard I wouldn't be surprised if I spontaneously combusted.

"Oh well that is such a shame, but I can't help but think that maybe you shouldn't have done something that required someone having to 'call you out' as you so eloquently put it." Well it seems like Blue is definitely on the 'Everyone get on Dominique's Ass Train', his voice is as cold as ice and as sharp as knives. I don't think he likes me, in fact that would be the understatement of the century. Rachel is nodding along in a way that screams 'Oh yes, I think she knows that now. Or she should'. If they're expecting an apology of some sorts then they're going to be waiting for a long time.

"Well I'm ever so sorry Blue, I didn't know that my pointing out that Blainey here was…" Before I can continue with my stream of expletives Nate steps on my foot, a glare saying 'just please shut the hell up.' Usually I'd tell him to take a long walk off a short pier, but because of me he has had to endure the supreme wrath of Rachel so I do suppose that I owe him this one. I purse my lips and fold my arms as Nate walks forward, apprehension marring his features as he looks around as though we're about to fly at each other like rabid animals.

"Anyway, I think we might all need a second to just calm down; Dom needs to grab another drink and then we'll meet you at your table." Everyone files out pretty quickly and I admit that the subtle authority in Nate's voice definitely shocked me but I'm not about to praise him for his diplomacy at the moment. I just round on him but he doesn't flinch like I expected, he must have anticipated my 'kitty cat rage'. Am I really that predictable?

"What did you do that for?" Nate just grins and watches as I huff and puff like a wolf from some old school fairy tale; he walks me over to the bar and places a virgin cosmopolitan in front of me and I can't help but smile. He knows my drink order and also knows about my totally irrational side; right now, I'm so glad to have met someone who may not be on the same wavelength but doesn't see me as some high maintenance freak.

"I decided to be mature, you know since everyone seemed about 10 seconds away from hacking each other to miniscule pieces." Smug idiot, he's smiling in a way that shows he is incredibly proud of his evident 'maturity'. I just elbow him in the ribs, damn people who are logical and rational; really puts a dampener on the situation when you're the one who is blatantly neither logical nor rational.

"Yeah, but we could've made a run for it but thanks to you and your bloody mature outlook we're stuck with her and her friends." That Santana girl seemed great, but Blue and Blaine were obviously not my biggest fans. And then there is Rachel, I mean I love the girl and everything; we're family but at times like these when she gets all comfortable on that moral high horse of hers when all I want to do is drop kick her into the next century. Maybe I should look into anger management, I mean I've been in New York less than 24 hours and I've already had to be around Rachel longer than the last 6 months combined; I'm certain that isn't good for my mental health.

"Come on Dommie, she just seems a bit…" I laugh out loud; the thing is from what I've seen I don't really know Rachel anymore. I mean there are some things about Rachel that would never change, her ambition that borders on being almost sociopathic. I just shrug my shoulders, deciding that remaining in a 'bitchy' mood will be easier than having to re-evaluate my opinion of anyone.

"Crazed, self-obsessed, vertically challenged. Don't worry, they're all applicable." Nate grins and drinks his root beer, a thoughtful arch in his eyebrow as he looks over where Rachel and her cronies have taken a seat and are all deep in conversation as if they never drifted over to me and rained down on me like some personal Armageddon.

"I'm sure she has some redeeming qualities." From the corner of my eye I notice him looking towards Rachel every few seconds, when he notices me looking at him he winks and I take a sip of my cocktail. I'm going to have to nip this 'fascination' of Nate's in the bud, for the good of everyone; getting too involved with Rachel is like trying to do the Argentinian Tango with an octopus.

"She does, but it's all about catching her on a good day. And as you've seen, today isn't a good day and I bet you that tomorrow isn't looking great either." Oh Karma is going to slap me like a bitch, my mother would probably laugh at my blatant ignorance of my own stupidity in this situation; heralding my sarcastic barbs as witty one liners rather than the desperate attempts at trying to escape the disaster this night is beginning to turn into. Nate just grins, looking thoughtful again.

We sit in silence, slowly working our way through our drinks; or in my case trying to put off the inevitable 'reunion' with Rachel and her motley group of friends. Seriously, Blue or Kurt; at least that is what I think he was called, looks like he want to hit me right in the kisser with a roundhouse kick or something like that. Nate turns and is chewing on his lip, I don't know if this is a good sign or not; I'm going to take a guess that this means he's about to either try and talk sense into me which is apparently a mean feat or he's going to say something that may provoke either A) A brutal sarcastic beat down, verbally of course. Or in case of an emergency B) I will be making sure Nate is wearing his drink rather than actually drinking it.

"You know that I think Blaine making a fool out of you earlier was a proper dick move, right?" Oh God no, when people try and assure you like this it generally means that they're about to say something which is going to make you either want to cry or slap them. I just nod my head, a little curious about what he had to say.

"Well I thought that he looked kinda bad about what happened just and you did give the she-devil another chance. Maybe you should try with him; I mean it would be cool to have someone in New York so we don't look like complete loners." He forces it all out in one breath, which is an impressive feat in itself and he's right; yet again. I did give Cynthia another chance when I realised she wasn't a complete duffer and well Rachel seems to have changed, although I'll place money on her still annoying the Hell out of me most of the time.

What is it with Nate tonight? Is he channelling Ghandi or something? All this wisdom is starting to get too much to be honest but I can't help but smile at how nervous he looks; I might be a bit quirky but I'm not that psychotic. Okay then Dominique Cecelia, time to be logical: You misjudged Cynthia and gave her another chance and you hardly made the best first impression with any of these people.

"I suppose." It was more of an out loud musing but the statement puts Nate at ease, his usual cheeky half grin sliding onto his face as he taps me on the back. Almost making me choke on my drink, making him laugh as I try to not die; once I've managed to make myself appear slightly normal again I turn to give him a faux angry glare. If any of my drink had ended up on this dress there would have been nothing faux about the glare and he would've found himself with a pretty large dry cleaning bill.

"Just admit it, I am right." Oh, and he doesn't like arrogance? I roll my eyes at the teasing lilt to his tone as I take a look in my compact mirror and breathe a sigh of relief that I still look acceptable to be seen in public before sliding off my stool. I start heading towards Rachel and her friends when I look back to see Nate watching me, arms folded and a stubborn look on his face.

"No, I won't admit you were right. I'll definitely give you that there is a strong possibility though, so you coming or what?" He slides off his stool and follows after me. This is genuinely a surprise, spending an evening with Rachel voluntarily; the philosophers of the modern day must be onto something when they say New York changes people. Oh well, I might as well go with the flow and let the cards fall where they may; because one thing is for certain, I'm going to have as much fun as possible.

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** A longish chapter again, I may shorten them but I doubt that… Anyways, let me have it! Hit that review button and let me know what kind of drama you anticipate for our wonderful cast :)**

**'As If We Never Said Goodbye' is my equivalent of a 'go to' song. Performed by Patti LuPone from the 'Sunset Boulevard' soundtrack.**

**Ornella **


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